


Gifts From the Sea

by Raberba girl (Raberba_girl)



Series: Gifts From the Sea [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Asexual Bruce Wayne, Batfam bingo 2019, Brothers, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Captivity, Child Abuse, Civilian Bruce Wayne, Dad Bruce Wayne, Depression, Developing Friendships, Don’t copy to another site, Eventual Minor Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Interspecies Friendship, Kidnapping, Marine Mammal Park, Merpeople, Metahuman Trafficking, Minor Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Minor Diana (Wonder Woman) & Jason Todd, Minor Dick Grayson & Clark Kent, Minor Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Minor Jason Todd & Damian Wayne - Freeform, No Slash, Other tags to be added, Past Sexual Assault, Seals (Animals), Selkies, Sign Language, Suicide Attempt, Thomas and Martha Wayne are Alive, Young Dick Grayson, Young Jason Todd, angry children, justice league - Freeform, tired dad, traumatized child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2020-05-01 18:31:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 101,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19183363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raberba_girl/pseuds/Raberba%20girl
Summary: Bruce, aimless after abandoning his plans to become a special education teacher, takes an internship at Amnesty Bay Aquatic Zoo. His life changes forever when he meets the zoo's orphaned merboy. (AU where the Batkids are merpeople and Bruce is their human adoptive dad.)***27 April 2020: I edited everything written up to this point, including someMAJOR changes to the length and arrangement of chapters. (Nothing was deleted, just re-arranged.)





	1. Chapter 1 - Bruce Wayne, Intern

_Gifts From the Sea_

A Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

 

Batfam Bingo 2019

Square: AU: Zoo

 

****If you paid money to read this work of fanfiction, that means it was stolen and reposted without the author's knowledge or consent. Please do not support apps or web sites that repost without permission and/or illegally profit off of other people's work.**

 

_Inspired by breezy-cheezy (Medli45)_

 

Summary: Bruce, aimless after abandoning his plans to become a special education teacher, takes an internship at Amnesty Bay Aquatic Zoo. His life changes forever when he meets the zoo's orphaned merboy. (AU where the Batkids are merpeople and Bruce is their human adoptive dad.)

 

 **A/N: If you're reading this on AO3, please mind the tags, since I won't be putting warnings on individual chapters.** If you're on FFN, know that this story contains potentially triggering content, including but not limited to captivity, trafficking, and grief/mourning leading to depression, suicidal thoughts, and passive suicide attempts.

 

Once again, this square is not on my own bingo card.

 

 **Chapter 1 - Bruce Wayne, Intern** (rough draft 2)

 

Bruce thought it was odd that part of his uniform included armor. What would an intern at the Amnesty Bay Aquatic Zoo need with a protective layer under his polo shirt and khaki shorts?

 

Then he forgot to keep wondering about it, because they were walking into the pool area and he was about to see an _actual mermaid_. Or, more accurately, merboy. The creature's parents had been killed in some sort of accident at a marine park, and the calf, called Dick by his trainers, had been transferred to ABAZ for rehabilitation and eventual display. Bruce had never had a particular interest in mer, but they were still rare and elusive creatures, thought to be myth up until a few short decades ago, so his interest was greatly piqued.

 

He belatedly realized that the gathered employees' cheers were for him, in response to his supervisor's announcement that one of Bruce's duties would be to assist in the administering of medical treatment. "Gonna put these big strong arms of yours to good use," one of the women said appreciatively, squeezing Bruce's biceps. Weirdly but refreshingly, she didn't seem to mean it in a flirtatious way.

 

"All right, Bruce, here's how it works," the supervisor, Mark, started to explain. "We've already shut all the gates, so that limits the field a lot. Now we're going to skim with a net to catch him, you'll eventually be helping with that, but don't worry about it today. Once we've gotten him on the platform--" He gestured at the surface extending out from the pool wall, only a couple of inches submerged, and at the padded board being held in place by a team of four people. "--and more or less onto the restraining board, your job is to help hold him down while we get him strapped in. Then you can chill for a bit; Jenny and Gustav will apply the medication, and we have to give it fifteen minutes to sink in. Then you'll help hold him again while we get him unstrapped, and we'll tell you when to let go. That's it! You got all that?"

 

"Yes," Bruce said apprehensively, thinking, _'Strapped down?'_

 

"All right, people," Mark said, sounding simultaneously cheerful and rueful, "here we go!"

 

Bruce watched as a team of people started moving a net through the water. At one point, he realized that the pool wasn't as empty as it looked: a faint blob that he'd taken for some sort of hatch at the bottom of the pool eventually began to move and grow with decreased distance, and he realized with a little excited flutter that it must be the merboy.

 

Once the net tightened and the creature broke the surface of the water, Bruce's initial expectations were shattered. The animal was clearly _terrified_ , screaming and thrashing wildly the entire time it was towed toward the platform and dragged up onto it.

 

"BRUCE!" several people bellowed.

 

Startled, he leaped into position, numbly following orders and pressing down on the calf's upper body, several people on either side of him working just as hard to restrain the frantically struggling creature.

 

Someone farther down managed to get a strap around the middle of Dick's tail, and there was a shout of triumph. The bottommost portion of the net was flipped back, and another strap was secured around the thinnest part of the mer's tail, just above the fins. The middle strap was removed and Dick bucked hard, but the pressure on his top half prevented him from moving even an inch.

 

More of the net was cleared and a strap was secured around the calf's hips, just below where scales transitioned to skin. "Almost there!" someone cried, and yet more straps bound the merboy's upper body, this time without bothering to clear the net first. Bruce's companions all let go with sighs of relief, though Bruce himself was the last to let go, feeling so horrified that it was hard to remember that it was time to move.

 

The little mer, completely restrained now, went still, his piercing screams shifting to an endless keen.

 

"Gives you your workout for the day, huh!" someone laughed, elbowing Bruce playfully.

 

Bruce did not respond, his eyes riveted to the child he had just helped terrorize. The poor creature lay completely helpless as the two vets worked on his tail. Bruce, finally managing to tear his gaze away from Dick's terrified sapphire eyes, finally noticed that there was a patch of damaged, discolored scales on the mer's tail, which the vets were working some sort of ointment onto.

 

The tail fins twitched continuously. The tail itself was mostly green, with a plume of red in the front and hints of yellow scales peeking out from the underside. The calf's skin was inhumanly pale with a grayish tinge, and slimy with a protective secretion. Dick's hair was black with subtle, natural blue highlights, his irises more bright and piercing than any human color. His ears were large and came to multiple points; more fins, hard to see in his current position, were under his upper arms and his hips; there was translucent webbing between his fingers; no genitals were visible. Gills on the sides of his neck worked furiously.

 

"Most of the calves are some combination of red, yellow, and green," someone chatted to Bruce as they waited for the fifteen minute timer to go off. "They change colors when they get older, though. This one's parents were mostly black and blue, so he'll probably be a dark beauty when he gets older." He reached out and patted Dick's cheek. The animal paused its keening long enough to snap at the man's hand with dagger-sharp teeth, but he jerked his arm back in time, laughing.

 

"Paul! Don't _do_ that when he's not muzzled!" someone scolded him.

 

Bruce felt physically sick. This was _not_ what he expected when he had taken this internship. The animal had no idea why they were tormenting it (him? It was extremely difficult not to anthropomorphize something that looked so human from the waist up), no idea that they were trying to help him. _'He can't even see what they're doing to his tail, of course he doesn't know.'_

 

The timer went off. "Whoo!" someone cheered.

 

"All right, honeybunch, you'll aaalll done!" someone baby-talked at the calf.

 

Bruce was called upon to help hold it down again as the straps were removed. As soon as Dick's tail was free, he started flailing wildly, and people were shouting as they grabbed the board and struggled to strategically take hold of the net. "All right, let 'im go!"

 

As soon as the merboy was fully released, he plunged into the pool and shot off, vanishing into a corner so deep that he looked like a speck from the surface.

 

"And that's it!" Mark said cheerfully to Bruce, clapping him on the back. "Think you can handle that once a day?"

 

"Yes," Bruce said numbly. He was led away and shown the rest of his tasks, and it was hours before he felt even halfway like himself again.

 

o.o.o

 

Bruce went to his new apartment that night exhausted. He couldn't stop thinking about the merboy, his heart aching with pity.

 

He looked up news stories about the marine park incident and found leaked footage of the disastrous performance. The first ten minutes had gone according to plan, but at one point, the adult male, called John by his trainers, had refused to obey a command, even for the sake of the treat dangling insistently above the water. He and his mate, Mary, had started swimming around and around the pool in agitation. The human performers, trying to salvage the show, improvised by switching their attention to the calf, but after only a couple of half-hearted responses to the commands, he swam to his mother and ignored the rest.

 

John suddenly rammed the glass wall of the tank, prompting brief screams and then laughter from the audience. The noises changed to concern when John rammed again and again, blood starting to drift through the water.

 

Frantic employees eventually managed to snag the merman with a catch pole, but then Mary went berserk. She leaped straight onto the concrete, seized a man's leg, and bit into it. When the mermaid yanked her head back, a sizeable chunk of the screaming man's flesh came along with her teeth, and blood sprayed through the air.

 

Other employees started shooting tranquilizer guns; an audience member drew a handgun and started firing - Bruce could barely force himself to keep watching. One bullet hit Mary, who shrieked, and another hit one of the employees. John, who'd been accidently freed in the chaos, went into a frenzy, attacking people and shedding blood, and one of the employees started bashing at his head with a metal pole.

 

In the end, according to public news reports, two humans and both the adult mer had died, the merman from blunt force trauma and all the others from blood loss. The mer calf and several people had been injured. A group of audience members had filed a lawsuit, and Dick had hastily been transferred to Amnesty Bay Aquatic Zoo.

 

 _'He watched his parents being violently killed, he lost his familiar environment, now he's in a new place with strangers chasing him and tying him down every day....'_ Bruce's heart almost felt like it was bleeding in sympathy.

 

o.o.o

 

Bruce numbly went through his morning routine, full of both anticipation and dread. He longed to see the merboy again, but at the same time, he felt sick just thinking about what he was expected to do to the poor thing. _Every day_. Wasn't there a less traumatic way to treat the animal? Perhaps it wasn't reasonable to rely on daily sedation, but they didn't even-- The creature couldn't even _see_. Bruce knew _he_ would be terrified and furious if monsters kept tying him down to do mysterious, uncomfortable things to his legs. _'If there was a way to make him understand, maybe he wouldn't be so distressed....'_

 

The second morning started out almost exactly the way the first one had, but now, Bruce knew what to expect. Here came the merboy, breaking the water shrieking and struggling, biting at the net but unable to shred the tough synthetic fibers even with his sharp fangs.

 

Bruce surged along with the others to grab Dick as he was hauled onto the platform, but instead of pinning the calf to the restraining board, Bruce wrapped the merboy in his arms. His hands encircled Dick's wrists, firm enough to keep hold despite the slick protective layer over the calf's skin, but he was careful not to squeeze. He crossed Dick's arms over his own chest in the restraining hold he'd learned in college back when he still thought he wanted to be a teacher.

 

The humans yelled at Bruce and the merboy writhed and screamed, but after a second, one eye sort of rolled back to stare at Bruce, confusion mixed in with the fear and anger.

 

"It'll be okay, chum," Bruce told him, ignoring everyone else who was shouting at him to _"PUT IT **DOWN**!!"_ A couple had kept their heads and were strapping the tail in place even though the animal wasn't completely horizontal. "Just relax, no one wants to hurt you."

 

Dick let loose a long shriek so high-pitched that Bruce winced, but he didn't let go. He transferred both the calf's wrists to one of his hands so he could carefully unwrap the net, which fell away because it had already been cleared from the tail.

 

"Can you HOLD him?" Jenny demanded.

 

"Yes, I've got him, carry on."

 

After a pause, Dick started writhing again as best he could when he could barely move his body, though silently now. He threw his head back, unsuccessful in hitting Bruce anywhere important, then twisted his head to bite. He couldn't get at Bruce from a good angle, but managed to shred a bit of his shirt.

 

Someone started yelling for a muzzle, but Bruce objected. "It's fine, I have my armor on, he's not getting through." He freed one of his hands again, this time to carefully scrub his fingers through the merboy's hair. The strands were very smooth, not quite as slimy as the calf's skin but still leaving a residue on Bruce's.

 

Dick paused, chest heaving, staring at Bruce in disbelief. He whimpered and knocked his head back into Bruce's hand. The gesture wasn't violent, so Bruce scratched a little harder. "It's okay, chum. Look, they're treating your tail so it will heal and get better." He pointed, and Dick stared down at the vets' hands on his tail. He watched, completely still and silent, his eyes huge, until their ministrations were finished. Then they stepped back and set the timer, and he started writhing again, which mostly consisted of straining his tail uselessly against the straps and knocking his head back against Bruce.

 

"Fifteen minutes, chum, just fifteen minutes and then you can go back out and play...." He tried the hair-caressing again. It made the merboy whimper, but he butted his head against Bruce's hand every time he paused, so Bruce supposed the mer would rather be petted than not.

 

"It's so _quiet_ ," someone remarked in disbelief. Everyone was standing at a prudent distance from Bruce and his not-screaming captive.

 

"I don't think he ever knew what we were doing to his tail," Bruce said, trying to sound diplomatic. "I thought maybe if he could see it...."

 

"You're going to need to come to my office as soon as we're done here," Mark said grimly.

 

"All right," Bruce murmured, having the sinking feeling that he was going to be fired.

 

Dick whimpered again and rolled back his head to stare at Bruce with huge, desperate sapphire eyes.

 

"Just eleven more minutes and thirteen seconds, chum, look," Bruce said, pointing. He started counting down with the seconds on the timer. "Four, three, two, one zero...look, now only ten minutes. Fifty-six, fifty-five, fifty-four...."

 

The merboy eventually started crying, hopeless soft wailing sobs as he clung to Bruce. Everyone was staring in astonishment, because apparently it had been thought that mer couldn't shed tears and now they were being decidedly proven wrong. "Hey, Dickie...hey...it's okay, it will be over soon. Dick, can you look at me?"

 

After some more coaxing, Dick lifted his wet eyes to Bruce's. "Hey. Hey there, chum. No one here wants to make you sad, okay? We all care about you, and we want your tail to get better. My name is Bruce."

 

Wet puppy eyes continued to stare at him.

 

"Bruce," Bruce repeated, indicating himself. "That's my name. _You_ are Dick, and _I_ am Bruce."

 

After a long pause, to Bruce's astonishment, the little mouth whispered, "B'ssss."

 

The reaction of most of the humans was utter shock. Bruce himself was surprised, but had no basis of comparison and so had no beliefs to be shattered, so he was simply pleased. "Oh, wow, good! Good job. Bruce, that's me. Hello, Dick. It's nice to meet you."

 

"...B'ssss."

 

"That's right. Bruce, me."

 

"B'ssss...B'ssss...." Then he made a very strange sound, a piercing cry that started low and rapidly rose. Dick looked at Bruce again and desperately made a short string of dolphin-like clicks.

 

"Wow. You're pretty amazing, Dick." He glanced back at the timer and saw that there was less than a minute left. "Oh, look, almost done, Dickie. Thirty-seven, thirty-six, thirty-five...." He was extremely relieved when he was able to announce, "...three, two, one! Look, chum, it's over. We're going to unstrap you and then you can go swim again, okay?"

 

The calf looked like he couldn't believe it when the straps were removed. He clung to Bruce in terrified uncertainty, and after a moment, Bruce picked him up in his arms and waded to the edge of the platform. He leaned down, starting to set the merboy in the pool. Dick suddenly slapped him with his tail and dove into the water, shooting to a far corner.

 

Bruce felt absolutely exhausted and elated all at once.

 

"Office. Now," Mark barked, and Bruce sighed a little as he trudged off.

 

He was suspended. Most likely in anticipation of being fired, but the merboy's condition would be evaluated and if Dick was found to have suffered harm from Bruce's actions, ABAZ would consider filing charges.

 

"You're an intern with no field experience. You can _not_ handle a dangerous wild animal against instructions, for its safety _and_ yours _and_ ours, _and_ the well-being of the park. What you did today was very serious, Bruce, and you might have hurt Dick."

 

"I never meant to hurt him. He was obviously frightened, and I--"

 

"You realize you could have killed him if _anything_ had gone wrong?"

 

"That was never my intention."

 

"I'm sure, but I cannot impress upon you how inappropriate and dangerous your actions were."

 

Bruce, knowing nothing he said would help, struggled to keep his mouth shut.

 

He spent the next day at home, not allowed to go to work, and found himself doing as much research as he could on mer. Not much was known about them, especially ones in the wild. Bruce listened to sound clips of mer noises, which were all very dolphin- and whale-like; he couldn't find a single example of mer making more human-like verbalizations such as Dick had when he'd said Bruce's name.

 

Bruce couldn't find any reliable sources on whether mer could cry or not, though a question-and-answer wiki page reached the consensus that they couldn't. Bruce now knew that was false.

 

He also looked up the natural secretions of mer and started researching substances that might not be harmful to their flesh. He had noticed, as he had been caressing Dick to comfort him, that his comparatively dry fingers had seemed to leach the moist layer off the mer's skin, and he had started feeling a noticeable increase of friction. If he could find some sort of safe oil or cream, he'd be able to stroke the mer in a way that was more safe and comfortable. _'Not that they'll ever let me see him again....'_

 

He got a call around noon. _"Bruce,"_ Mark said brusquely, _"come back to work as usual tomorrow morning, we want to try something."_

 

"Did something happen?"

 

 _"No."_ The man hung up before Bruce could inquire further.

 

TBC

 

A/N: This plot bunny started jumping up and down screaming at me as soon as I saw [Breezy's adorable sketch of Bruce holding little mer-Dick in his arms](https://breezy-cheezy.tumblr.com/post/185286859298/welp-it-is-now-june-but-i-finished-these-mermay). :)


	2. Chapter 2 - Forbidden Friendship

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter** **2** **\- Forbidden Friendship (rough draft 2)**

 

A/N: Chapter title shamelessly taken from the _How to Train Your Dragon_ soundtrack.

 

o.o.o

 

The next morning, Bruce prepared as best he could and then felt a little fluttery with apprehension and excitement when he left his apartment.

 

No one greeted him when he arrived, and he got cold glares from anyone who deigned to look at him at all. Bruce's tentative inquiries about the merboy were rudely brushed off without being answered.

 

He was pleased but very surprised when it was made known to him that he was expected to help with the merboy's medication again. He took his place, everyone standing slightly but noticeably apart from him. The net team got ready and began to move.

 

Just as before, the calf was dragged struggling and screaming to the surface, and Bruce's heart ached. He was already crossing the platform before he was aware of what he was doing. The little mer was dragged closer and closer. Then he flipped over and caught sight of Bruce.

 

The change was immediate. His screams paused, and his eyes widened. Then he reached out as much as the net allowed and started shrieking again, this time in desperation. "B'SSSS...! B'SSSS...!"

 

Bruce was on his knees on the very edge, stretched out, reaching. As soon as the calf was close enough, Bruce seized him in his arms and rocked back. Dick squirmed in his hold and then latched onto him tightly, sobbing into his shirt through the net.

 

"I've got you, Dickie, I've got you...."

 

The others pulled Dick away in order to tie down his tail, which set him screaming again, his arms stretched toward Bruce. Bruce managed to take hold of the calf's clawing hands in one of his and then sat there, stroking Dick's hair as the merboy wept against his leg. "It's okay, Dickie, it's just the same thing as last time...we're going to put some medicine on your tail and then wait a few minutes to give it time to work. You're okay, Dickie, you're okay, I'm here....

 

After several long minutes, Dick finally stopped crying and stared intently at his tail and at the timer. At one point, he suddenly started biting Bruce's leg, but the armor held. "Dick, no. _No_. No biting."

 

The merboy stared up at him apprehensively, then, after it was clear that Bruce was not going to punish him, did his little _"Pet me"_ headbutt.

 

"I'll only pet you if you don't bite me. If you try to hurt me again, I will stop petting." Bruce resumed his gentle stroking, occasionally reaching into his pocket to swipe more mer-safe oil onto his fingers from the container he'd tucked there. This time, his slick hands slid across Dick's equally slick skin, and the mer actually relaxed a little bit. "You're a good boy, Dickie...a very good boy...."

 

When the timer went off, Dick started to struggle again, and Bruce had to hug-restrain him until they'd gotten the tail straps off. Then he opened his arms and Dick started flopping to freedom, but not before seizing Bruce's leg and starting to drag him into the deeper water.

 

Bruce immediately grabbed onto Gustav, and everyone started yelling and seizing either the vet or Bruce. The little merboy soon gave up and dashed away.

 

"Wow," Bruce said, realizing that he had to set the tone before anyone else could figure out how they felt about a human nearly being dragged into deep water by a mer, "he is the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

 

Shoulders relaxed slightly, and expressions changed from panic to contempt. It made Bruce relax a little as well. "Yeah, _real_ amazing if he'd drowned you," someone snapped.

 

"He didn't, though. More like testing boundaries, or something," Bruce said.

 

"It's not _fair_!" Amanda exclaimed in clear frustration. "We've had him for _weeks_ , and all he does is hide and freak out when we get near him; then in two days, he gets clingy with the newbie and _cries_ and makes _responses_ other than screaming?!"

 

Bruce wondered if it had ever even occurred to any of these people to treat the little mer like a child instead of an animal. Perhaps many of them might have, if the attitude of the leadership had been different, but Bruce had found that people tended to fall in with herd mentality pretty quickly. "He was calling for me, wasn't he," he realized. "Yesterday. That's why I'm not fired." Likely the _only_ reason he wasn't fired.

 

No one really answered, just gave him dirty looks as they all started to clean up and disperse.

 

For the rest of the day, Bruce was given the most undesirable jobs, and found himself cleaning quite a lot of scum-encrusted tanks and equipment. He never said a word of complaint, though, knowing that this was the price for getting to stay with the fascinating little merboy.

 

For his first fifteen-minute break, he quietly made his way to Dick's pool and sat down at the edge, watching the blob in the corner.

 

After a long moment, the blob slowly began to grow as the boy drew closer and closer to the surface. Then there he was, the little dark head peering out of the water, still safe in the corner where no one could reach him without a net.

 

"Hey there, chum," Bruce called, trying to make his voice carry enough for the calf to hear it, but not loud enough to attract human attention.

 

Dick slowly swam closer, though he stopped again well out of arm's reach.

 

"Just taking a break, and thought I would come see you," Bruce chatted. "Nice to spend time together when I don't have to pin you down, right?"

 

Dick slowly swam back and forth, as if trying to see Bruce from different angles, always staying out of reach.

 

"You have very pretty eyes. You always hear writers describing eyes 'like sapphires' or other jewels, but in your case, it's not an exaggeration, they really do look like--"

 

"Wayne!" At the sharp voice, Dick vanished beneath the water, though he remained close enough to see the human figures at the edge of the pool.

 

"I'm on my break," Bruce said calmly, raising his watch-covered wrist. "I set a timer. I'll go right back to work as soon as it goes off."

 

"You can't be in here without permission."

 

"It's easier to develop a relationship with him when neither of us are under pressure."

 

"You're not here to develop a _relationship_ with an _animal_!"

 

Dick was looking out of the water again, his expression intent and alarmed.

 

"I'm here to assist you all in your work, and if I can keep the animal calm and comforted so you can more easily treat its medical condition, then that is a form of assistance."

 

"Get out of here!"

 

"...Fine," Bruce acquiesced, already planning to make a note of Paul's schedule so he could sneak in at times when he'd be less likely to get caught.

 

However, when he got up and started to leave, Dick shrieked. He rocketed across the pool at an alarming speed and _leaped_ onto the dry concrete, then hauled himself toward Paul with fierce eyes and bared fangs.

 

Paul shrieked and fled, screaming into his walkie-talkie.

 

"Dick!" Bruce, alarmed at the sight of blood starting to streak the ground, practically flung himself to his knees and put his hands on the mer's shoulders. "Dick, stop, look! You're hurting yourself! Look, Dickie."

 

Dick paused and stared at him, then, finally, at where Bruce was pointing. At the sight of the blood, he whimpered as if finally feeling the pain and gingerly shifted to his side, revealing the new scrapes on his tail. Dislodged scales littered the floor.

 

"Oh, God," Bruce exclaimed in horror. He put his arms around the calf and carefully lifted him up, then carried him into the office and set him in the rolling chair. Dick sat there, trembling and whimpering, tail working restlessly, as Bruce broke into the locked medicine cabinet and started sorting through the tubes and bottles. The usual bottle was for something different, but right next to it was one with the words 'antiseptic' and 'for marine specimens' on the label, so he started applying it to Dick's scrapes.

 

When he noticed the calf's fearful trembling change to shivers of cold, he paused long enough to pull off his own shirt and started to put it on the merboy. Dick shrieked and jerked back, swiping at him, so Bruce immediately stopped trying to clothe him properly and simply draped the shirt around the mer's shoulders. With their size difference, the garment nearly covered the calf's entire torso.

 

Dick stared for a minute, then held the shirt snug around himself with one hand and picked at the fabric curiously with the other, no longer bothering to watch Bruce resuming the treatment of his injuries.

 

Bruce finally exhaled and sat back on his heels. "Okay. We'll give that a minute to sink in, and--" He became aware of Dick's hand gripping his hair and that the calf's eyes were fixed on something behind him. He had no idea how long the mer had been in that position. Bruce looked over his shoulder and found quite a lot of people crammed in the doorway, staring.

 

"What did you _do_?" Mark demanded, sounding angry, amazed, and resigned all at the same time.

 

"He jumped out of the pool and scraped his tail. It was okay to use this, right?" Bruce held out the medication.

 

"Why is he so CALM?!"

 

Bruce looked back at Dick. The merboy didn't look at all calm to him, but he supposed that tense and frightened was 'calm' in comparison to the screaming and wild struggling everyone else was probably used to. Also, sitting in a desk chair with a garment wrapped around him, the calf looked far more human than he did when he was naked in a pool.

 

"Don't let his tail dry out," someone remarked, and there was some shuffling as someone else went to wet a towel. However, when they tried to approach to apply it, Dick shrieked and clung desperately to Bruce, who stepped in front of him. "I'll do it."

 

Dick spared a few anxious glances at Bruce as he wrapped the tail, but for the most part, but merboy kept his terrified gaze fixed on the other humans, alert for any threatening move.

 

"It's okay, chum. No one will hurt you."

 

Bruce used his phone to try to entertain Dick while they waited for the medication to sink in, though the calf wouldn't give enough of his attention to it until he'd pulled hard enough for Bruce to be positioned directly in front of him, between him and the other humans.

 

Bruce started out showing him ocean videos, but the calf, catching on quickly, started tapping on suggested videos himself. He stared in great confusion at a video of human 'mermaids' performing at a club. A few suggested videos later got him to one that was completely unrelated to the ocean, and Dick gazed at the colorful, glittery, singing dancers so intently that he didn't even seem to notice the timer going off or Bruce unwrapping his tail.

 

He did notice Bruce trying to take the phone out of his hands. "Okay, chum, I'm going to need this back now--"

 

" _Screeeeeee_!"

 

"Finish this one video and then that's _it_."

 

Dick still got violent when the video ended and the phone was forcibly confiscated, but in a way that reminded Bruce of a child throwing a tantrum. Bruce pinned the calf's hands and scooped him up. Dick, yelling and growling, started to whip his tail in a rotating motion so quickly and powerfully that Bruce nearly dropped him. "For God's sake...."

 

Mark and Gene held the merboy's tail, and between them and Bruce, they managed to get Dick back to the pool and toss him in. Instead of darting off immediately as usual, Dick bobbed in the water and screeched angrily for a while, his eyes on Bruce. Then he dove down to his corner.

 

Bruce stared after him. "...He still has my shirt." He looked down at his chest, which was now only covered by the armored under-layer.

 

"Bruce," Mark sighed, "I don't think you realize what a can of worms you opened the other day."

 

Bruce was given a new shirt and then sent back to resume scraping scum. About twenty minutes later, Amanda came to get him. "Bruce," she said, "I think you're gonna want to see this."

 

He followed her to the downstairs portion of the mer pool, where a large section of the tank wall was transparent. A small crowd of employees, most of them recording with their phones, watched Dick play with Bruce's shirt.

 

The calf would fling the shirt up and watch in fascination as it drifted, often swimming around it and experimentally poking at it to send the folds of fabric in slightly different directions. He dragged it, watching it stretch out after him through the water, and eventually discovered that he could partially curl up inside it. Though he shied away from the neck hole, Bruce was so much bigger than him that three quarters of the calf's body fitted into the shirt, and once he'd bundled himself inside, he started to twirl, propelling himself with the end of his tail.

 

Everyone was so spellbound that they lost track of time as they watched. Bruce finally asked, his voice soft, "Has he ever had any toys?"

 

"We gave him a ball," someone mentioned.

 

"One that he could take down into the water with him?"

 

No one answered, perhaps not wanting to acknowledge that a ball that kept shooting up to the surface wouldn't be much fun for a creature that spent most of its time hiding in the depths.

 

Dick finally seemed to notice that he was being watched. Clutching the shirt, he swam right up to the tank wall and stared at Bruce. Bruce stared back and found himself stepping as close as he could get, as if the mer's intense sapphire eyes were a line drawing him in. They stared at each other for a while, Dick slightly above Bruce's eye level.

 

Then the calf's gaze dropped, and he tilted his head as he studied Bruce's chest critically. He turned back to his stolen shirt and spread it out in the water, looking back and forth between it and its former owner, comparing the way Bruce was wearing his replacement shirt. Then Dick wriggled into the garment again, this time struggling with the various holes, ending up with his head through one sleeve and his arm through the neck hole. He glared at Bruce in displeasure.

 

"Turn it around," Bruce said, trying to gesture the instructions.

 

Dick frowned harder and curved sideways in the water.

 

"No, the shirt--" Bruce took off his shirt and put it back on the way Dick was wearing the other one, though Bruce was too big for most of his head to fit through the sleeve. He waved demonstratively, then slowly righted the shirt again and popped his head through the neck hole. "Like that."

 

Dick was staring, wide-eyed.

 

"The neck hole has a collar, see?" Bruce said, flipping his own demonstratively. "The sleeves just have hems."

 

Dick turned his attention back to his own shirt and squirmed out of it, inspecting it carefully for a while. He played with the collar and looked back and forth between his shirt and Bruce's. Then he struggled inside it again, making a couple of attempts before managing to put it on correctly. He swam in a small, experimental circle to get the feel of the garment and then pressed both hands to the side of the tank, looking at Bruce with a close-mouthed smile.

 

"Very good," Bruce praised, smiling. "Good job." It suddenly occurred to him to try it in sign language, since the merboy obviously couldn't hear him through the tank and the water. _"Good,"_ he said again, this time with both his hands and his mouth.

 

Dick pushed back a little, made a motion that was like sweeping his hands from his chest upward, then swam away, arms out and oversized polo shirt flowing around him.

 

The employees burst into excited chatter, sharing all the pictures and videos they'd just captured. None of them paid any attention to Bruce, who slipped away and went back to work.

 

o.o.o

 

Bruce went to the mer pool on his lunch break, sitting a prudent distance away from the edge so no food or trash would have a chance to fall in. After a while, Dick's head rose above the surface of the water.

 

"Hello, Dick." After a pause in which the calf made no move or response, Bruce continued, "I thought I'd eat lunch here, just hang out with you a little. I think you're the only one in this whole place who doesn't hate me."

 

The one-sided chatter went on for a while. Dick eventually ventured very cautiously to the side of the pool and put his little webbed fingers on the edge.

 

"Please don't jump up on the concrete again, remember how you hurt yourself last time."

 

Dick may not have understood the words, but he remembered the incident from that morning. He set his palm on the concrete and patted experimentally, frequently lifting his hand to check for blood. So far, so good. He spent a while inspecting the concrete and lifting his eyes to check on Bruce.

 

Then, before Bruce had time to do anything other than gasp an aborted, "No--," Dick heaved himself onto the concrete.

 

"Dick!" Bruce hastily shoved his half-eaten lunch back into its container and zipped it up. Then he got up and marched toward Dick, who was dragging himself across the concrete carefully enough to avoid injury. As soon as the calf saw the man marching toward him, his eyes widened in alarm and he scrambled backward, dropping back into the pool just as Bruce reached him. He swam toward the center, and Bruce relaxed. "I want you to stay safe, okay, chum?" Bruce sat down on the edge and folded his legs.

 

They watched each other for a while. Then Dick approached again, angling around from the side. Bruce grew more and more wary, then finally raised his hand and commanded, "Dick, stay in the pool."

 

The merboy paused, calculating. Then he slowly started moving along the edge of the pool, toward Bruce. Bruce tensed in alarm and a bit of excitement, but stayed still and alert.

 

Dick veered away before coming within arm's reach and circled in front of Bruce, to his other side. He reached the edge and paused. Then he gripped the edge.

 

"Dick, _stay in the pool_."

 

Dick made a displeased hissing sound.

 

"You need to stay in the pool. You hurt yourself earlier when you came flopping all over this rough concrete, remember?"

 

Dick sank down until just his eyes and the top of his head were above the water. They watched each other for a while. Then Dick slowly approached, still mostly submerged.

 

"Hey, chum," Bruce murmured.

 

The merboy's eyes flicked around, but the pool was deserted except for the two of them. He came just short of arm's reach and stopped.

 

"I've been thinking about what sort of toys to bring you. Nothing too small, or that will be too hard for us to retrieve. I wish I knew what kinds of things you liked."

 

A small, dripping hand started to reach out. Bruce got a little nervous and scooted back a little. There was a pause, then Dick rose an inch and smirked. "B'ssss."

 

"We have legends about mer dragging us into the water to drown us, you know. Not sure I trust you 100% yet, chum."

 

Dick tilted his head. "JJumm."

 

Bruce's eyes widened. "Ch-um," he enunciated. "Chum. It means 'friend.' Well, it means something else, too, but in this context, it means friend. Chum."

 

"Jjum."

 

Bruce chuckled a little. Then, enunciating and pointing, he said, "Dick is my chum."

 

The merboy's eyes widened a little, and he rose farther out of the water. "Ti'ck?"

 

"Dick. That's your name. That's what we call you, anyway, in our language. I am Bruce, and you are Dick."

 

"Ti'ck?" He made a series of clicking sounds. "B'ssss _c-c-c-c-click_ Ti'ck." He made a couple of strange motions, like drawing Bruce to himself and then tossing up his forearm, the hand bent far back for a moment.

 

Bruce's phone alarm went off, and Dick heaved backward in alarm. "It's okay, chum, it's okay, that just means my lunch is over. But hopefully I'll see you later, all right? Goodbye." He stood up and waved. "Goodbye, Dick."

 

"B'ssss?"

 

"Goodbye. I will see you later." Bruce went to scoop up the strap of his lunch bag and walked away.

 

o.o.o

 

 _'Mer can talk.'_ Bruce thought about this obsessively until his last break of the day, mulling over the implications and wondering if it was just mimicking or genuine communication.

 

Obviously pronunciation was difficult with a mouth and throat that weren't quite the same as a human's, and especially for a creature who'd spent the first eight or nine years of his life using a different form of communication. But the intelligence was quite possibly there, and Bruce thought he had been on the right track with ASL. It had worked for primates and dolphins, after all, so why not mer?

 

He came into the pool area during his break to find Mark and a couple of others on the slightly submerged ledge, calling coaxingly to Dick as they held out fish. The mer was at the surface, but all the way at the other end of the pool, hissing.

 

"What are you trying to get him to do?" Bruce asked.

 

Gene glared, and Mark looked for a moment like he had swallowed a lemon, but then sighed and said, "We just want to test some things, now that we know he can do more than we thought. Harmless stuff, matching colors and listening to music and the like." He paused, then held out the fish and said, sounding like he was forcing the words out through gritted teeth, "Why don't you try?"

 

Bruce cautiously approached, took the fish, and held it out toward the merboy. "Dick, come here! Look what I've got--"

 

The mer vanished beneath the water.

 

Mark and the others exclaimed in surprised disappointment (and maybe a bit of envious relief).

 

Bruce thought a moment, then walked along the edge of the pool until he was a significant distance from the other humans. He sat down, waiting, and set the fish aside when he realized he was still holding it.

 

After a long time, Dick surfaced again, low and suspicious. "Hello, Dickie," Bruce called, waving in a deliberate way.

 

Dick cocked his head.

 

"Will you come here, Dick?" Bruce asked, signing as he spoke.

 

Dick's head dropped beneath the water and he slowly approached, then surfaced again, closer but out of reach.

 

"Hello, Dick. It's good to see you."

 

After a long pause, Dick's eyes moved to the fish, then to Mark and the others, who were holding their breath some distance away.

 

Bruce scooted away from the fish. Dick fixed his eyes on it for a while, then very cautiously swam to the edge of the pool and picked up the fish. He stared at it intently.

 

Then he hurled it away and lurched backward, watching Bruce in apprehension.

 

"It's okay, Dickie, I'm not angry. You don't have to eat the fish if you don't want to."

 

"......Ti'ck? Ti'ckie???"

 

"Yes, 'Dickie' is an affectionate nickname for 'Dick.' Which is, itself, a nickname for 'Richard'.... I'm sorry it's confusing."

 

Dick cocked his head. Then he pointed at himself. "Ti'ck? Ti'ckie?" He made a soft clicking whine.

 

"You are Dick _or_ Dickie. Either one."

 

Dick pointed at him. "B'sss."

 

"That's right. I'm Bruce."

 

Dick did that close-mouthed smile. Then he held out his arms and turned a full circle in the water, as if showing off his outfit.

 

"Yes, you are wearing a shirt. That is a blue shirt," Bruce confirmed, pointing and signing. "Shirt."

 

"Hsssh't."

 

"Shirt," Bruce confirmed. Then, softly, "You're amazing."

 

Dick, for the first time, moved carefully just within arm's reach. Bruce just as carefully stayed still and kept his hands visible. "You just did something to show you trust me a little, Dick, and I treasure that."

 

After a long moment, Dick pointed toward Mark and the others and made a short whooping sound. They eagerly started forward, taking it as permission to approach, but Dick hissed and backed away. "Maybe he wants another fish?" Bruce guessed. The bucket had been sitting at their feet.

 

"Do you want a fish, Dick?" Mark crooned, taking one out and offering it.

 

Dick lowered 97% below the water in his suspicious way.

 

Bruce went over to take the bucket and bring it back to Dick, whom he offered a fish. Dick stared at it again. Then he picked it up and set it right beside Bruce's knee, looking up at him expectantly.

 

 _'Oh God,'_ Bruce thought. He could eat raw fish, but not when it had been sitting dead in a bucket for hours. (It suddenly occurred to him to wonder whether mer actually found it appetizing, either, or whether they simply ate it because fresh food was not provided.) "...How about this, chum." He took a package of crackers out of his pocket and showed it to Mark. "They're all-natural, no preservatives or additives." Once Mark had inspected the list of ingredients and given the okay, Bruce opened the package and ate a cracker, then held out another one to Dick, who had retreated again at Mark's approach.

 

Once Mark backed away, Dick warily swam closer and took the offered cracker. He stared at it for a minute, then put it in his mouth. He made a face and opened his mouth again, letting the soggy cracker dribble back out.

 

"Not a fan, huh?" Bruce remarked, eating another one just to show that it wasn't poisoned or anything even though it wasn't to the mer's taste. "I like them, though. They're not very filling, but they're tasty and nutritional, at least for humans."

 

Dick came close again and reached for Bruce's leg. The man warily backed away, still sitting. Dick heaved himself out of the pool and lay there on the concrete, running curious fingers over Bruce's leg hair. "You've never gotten to take a good look at human legs before, huh." It occurred to him that he ought to have kept the armored layer on, whether he'd expected to have any physical interaction with the mer or not. _'Next time.'_

 

Bruce's fifteen minute break stretched out over half an hour as Dick, in growing fascination, stroked his legs and played with his feet, especially his toes. Bruce had to keep a sharp eye out, scolding and jerking back whenever the mer looked like he was about to bite. Although Dick tensed when Mark approached to lay wet towels over his tail to keep his flesh hydrated, he didn't flee. It was only when he finally seemed to get bored and a little woozy from the sun that he started making attempts to heave himself away. He seemed sluggish and weak, so Bruce carefully picked him up. Dick chittered anxiously at him.

 

"I'm just going to put you in the water, chum. Right here, don't worry."

 

The water seemed to instantly refresh him, and Dick darted in a happy circle. He popped his head up for a minute to look at Bruce, then gestured with his arm and turned away to dive. "Bye, Dick," Bruce murmured. "I'll see you later."

 

Mark, the only observer left, shook his head as he approached. "I am insanely jealous of you, Wayne. We've gathered more data on Dick in the past couple of days than we have in all the weeks since he came to us."

 

"He's a good kid."

 

"You're anthropomorphizing him."

 

"Well, maybe that's what he needed to come out of his shell," Bruce challenged.

 

Mark frowned and walked away without answering, looking deep in thought.

 

Bruce's shift ended at closing time, and he went to pay his young friend one last visit. "Dickie," he called, slapping the surface of the water.

 

A minute later, a dark shape came rising up and surfaced a foot or two away from Bruce. Dick clicked and then waved clumsily in imitation of Bruce's greeting. "Just wanted to see you one last time before I leave. I'm going to go home, all right?"

 

Dick copied Bruce's signing. _"Go home."_

 

"Yes. You will stay here, and I will go home. All right? Good night, Dick."

 

_"Good night?"_

 

"It was fun spending time with you today."

 

As Bruce was walking away, he heard the splashing sound of water being displaced over the pool's edge. He sighed and walked back. "Dick, get back in the pool. I'm leaving."

 

"B'sss."

 

"No, Dick, not right now. You can play with me again tomorrow, but right now it's time for me to go home." He went to shut Gate A, then came back to pick up Dick in his arms. The little merboy had been dragging himself after him, and now set his hand on Bruce's chest, staring up at him as if trying to decipher him. "I'm going to put you back in the pool."

 

He walked past Gate A to the part of the pool that only had a narrow walkway all around. He tried to set Dick back in the water, but the merboy clung, wrapping his arms around Bruce's neck and his tail around the man's waist.

 

Bruce sighed and held him close for a minute. "I know, Dickie. I don't want to leave, either, but I'll see you tomorrow. I promise." He kissed the top of the calf's head, cuddled him a moment longer, then straightened up and said briskly, "Finished. Goodbye, Dick."

 

There was a brief struggle, then he managed to detach the calf's arms long enough to throw him in the pool. Dick shrieked angrily and reared up, then aimed for the edge of the pool again, but Bruce was hurrying through the side gate and shutting it behind him, ensuring that Dick could not follow even if he got back out of the pool. The mer swam to the closed water gate and hissed.

 

"Tomorrow," Bruce promised. He left, this time successfully.

 

TBC


	3. Chapter 3 - Swimming With the Fish

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter** **3** **\- Swimming With the Fish (rough draft 2)**

 

The next morning, Bruce was granted his request to try calling Dick for his daily treatment. The team stood back, all the supplies ready, as Bruce stood on the ledge with a fish and slapped the water.

 

Dick poked his head up and glared suspiciously.

 

"Dick! Time for medicine."

 

Dick very, very cautiously swam toward him, frowning at all the people ringed behind Bruce. He darted in just long enough to snatch the fish and then back away again to eat it.

 

"You want another one? You can have it if you come sit up here for a little while."

 

Dick bared his teeth.

 

"Dick, you need your medicine, and you're getting it whether you cooperate or not. Come here."

 

Dick eyed him as he moved back. Then he dove.

 

Bruce sighed. "You can use the net, but give me a minute to catch him once he's up here."

 

The merboy was forced to the surface, this time screaming in fury as he was dragged to the ledge. Bruce knelt and held out a hand behind him to indicate that the others should pause.

 

"SCREEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" Dick shrieked at him, enraged and betrayed.

 

"Dick."

 

"SCREEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"

 

"I'll wait."

 

Dick screamed and pushed at the net until he finally went quiet and started crying.

 

"Dickie."

 

The merboy look at him and made a savage-sounding, piercing whistle.

 

"Listen. I know you don't like this. But we have to put this medicine on your tail." He showed the mer the medicine bottle and then pointed at the infection. "I know it's not fun, but once it's finished, then you can swim away and go play. I know you don't like it, and I'm very sorry." Carefully, he held Dick in the restraining hold, the mer struggling until they'd gotten his tail strapped down. Then, still confined in Bruce's arms, he sort of hung over the man's leg, limp and resigned as he watched the vets treating his tail. Bruce stroked him and talked to him quietly, even though there was no response.

 

When the timer went off, Bruce said "Finished" as the straps were being undone, then let go and stepped back.

 

Dick, lying in a heap on the ledge, made sluggish attempts to drop off the edge into deeper water. But then he paused, looked up at Bruce, and whimpered as he flopped a hand toward the man. Bruce crouched down and took his hand. After a pause, Dick lunged to bite, and Bruce dodged just in time - he had armor on, but it didn't cover his hands. Dick hiss-shrieked and swiped at Bruce's legs, but Bruce managed to skip back (everyone else had already moved a prudent distance away).

 

They stared at each other, Dick glaring.

 

"Finished, Dick. Go play," Bruce said, sweeping his arm out toward the pool.

 

Dick raised his head and braced his hands, propping himself up so that he was as tall as he could get while lying on his stomach. He stared at Bruce intently for a long moment, then bared his teeth and slipped over the edge into the water.

 

Soon afterward, Bruce was called from his duties to help clean up the shreds of the polo shirt Dick had ripped up, as the merboy glared balefully at him from behind Gate B.

 

When Bruce was done, he called, "I know you're angry at me, and that's okay. I'm not angry at you."

 

" _hisss_ "

 

"I'll see you at lunch, all right?"

 

Around noon, Bruce brought his lunch to the mer pool. After several long minutes, Dick surfaced a little and watched him balefully from a distance. Bruce was nearly finished eating when the calf swam close to the submerged ledge and called, "B'sss!"

 

"What is it, Dick?" Bruce asked, signing as he spoke.

 

Dick swiped his tail briefly through the air, then made a chirping sound and glared.

 

"Are you asking what we're doing to your tail every day?"

 

" _chirp_!"

 

"Look." Bruce got up and stepped onto the ledge, unbothered when Dick immediately backed out of reach. He mimed as he spoke, trying to sign when he could. "Sometimes, parts of our bodies get hurt, and then we have to put medicine on the hurt part to make it better. The water washes the medicine off, so we have to wait...and wait...and wait...until the timer goes off--" He imitated the beeping sound. "--and then we can go play. Then the next day, we have to put medicine on again, and the next day again, and the next day again, until it's all healed and not hurt anymore." He wondered how much of that the merboy had understood.

 

After a long pause, Dick cautiously approached and touched Bruce's knee, fingers moving slowly over the joint.

 

"That's my knee. Knee." Bruce started naming body parts in both English and ASL as Dick touched them. "Calf. Foot. And, look, the whole thing all together, my thigh and knee and calf, is my leg. Leg. ...Those are toes. I have five toes on my foot." He counted them as Dick watched in fascination. "One, two, three, four, five. Five toes." He slipped his remaining water shoe off and brought that foot close to join the other. "Look, I have five more." He counted all of them. "...eight, nine, ten. Ten toes all together, five on this foot and five on this foot."

 

Dick clicked softly, and spent the rest of Bruce's lunch (and beyond) playing with the toes, discovering Bruce's pain tolerance (" _Ow_ , they don't bend that way, Dick!"), and making occasional attempts to drag him into the water.

 

"You are a dangerous little cutie," Bruce remarked after the third, almost playful attempt, ruffling the boy's hair. Dick grabbed his hand and then started comparing it, frowning, to his own webbed ones. He squeaked at Bruce inquisitively, rubbing one of the spaces between Bruce's fingers.

 

"I don't have any webbing, Dickie. That's normal for humans. Mer like you have webbed fingers; humans like me do not."

 

"Uhhn't," Dick mimicked. So then Bruce started teaching Dick how to enunciate until he realized he'd accidentally taken an extra half hour for 'lunch' and that Mark was filming him.

 

Bruce tried to skip his break to make up for it, but then Mark found him an hour before the end of his shift and told him he had a new job, which was to interact with Dick. When Bruce stared at him, he smiled back, looking resigned and rueful. "He likes you. We need him to like people. Or, well, to be non-hostile, at any rate."

 

"Human."

 

"What?"

 

"Dick is already a person. What you need, specifically, is for him to be non-hostile toward _humans_."

 

"...Right," Mark said, helplessly thoughtful.

 

Dick was apparently sleeping, and Bruce was loath to wake him up, but Mark slapped the water and then tossed a fish in. After a long moment, Dick popped up to the surface, then squealed in pleasure and swam quickly over to his friend. "B'sss."

 

"Hello, Dickie."

 

Dick once again started grabbing Bruce and trying to drag him into the water.

 

"All right, you know what, stop. I'll swim with you, but I am going to take precautions first, you little siren."

 

With Mark's help, Bruce was outfitted with a rebreather and goggles, flippers, emergency flotation devices, and a harness with a safety line which was securely fastened and which Mark would keep hold of the entire time Bruce was in the pool. Dick lay on the ledge and watched, utterly fascinated to see complicated, scary things being done to someone other than himself.

 

"Remember," Mark grumbled as he worked, "you signed papers. If you get injured or killed doing this, you and your family can't sue us."

 

"Yes, I know."

 

Bruce finally tromped awkwardly over to the mer, who hastily backed into the pool but continued to stare at him. "All right. _Now_ I'll swim with you." He waded across the shallow segment and sat down on the edge.

 

Dick watched him for a minute, then warily approached. Bruce held out a  hand, which Dick shied away from, but Bruce kept it patiently extended, and the merboy finally grasped it. He tugged.

 

"Do you want me to swim with you? Yes or no?" Bruce asked, signing with his free hand and using his expression and vocal tone to indicate which response was positive and which was negative. "Swim, yes? Or swim, no?"

 

 _"Swim yes,"_ Dick signed diffidently.

 

Bruce, delighted to see the creature successfully signing, confirmed, "All right, Dick, I will come swim with you." He pushed himself off the ledge and allowed Dick to drag him under the water. The merboy pulled him deeper and deeper, until they were finally at the very bottom of the pool. Dick stared at him for a long moment. Then he let go, and Bruce started to drift upward. Dick swam around him in fascination, then took his hand and dragged him down again. He watched as Bruce slowly rose.

 

 _"You are a mer,"_ Bruce signed as he drifted up. _"You stay under water. I am a human. I rise up."_

 

Dick started making a lot of purposeful-looking gestures that wasn't any sort of sign language Bruce recognized. The calf's vocalizations sounded different underwater, richer and closer.

 

_"When we are under water, you must be gentle with me. When we are on land, I will be gentle with you."_

 

Dick went quiet and swam a little closer, watching Bruce rise and rise until they reached the surface. After a moment, Bruce took out the rebreather and inhaled deeply.

 

"You okay, Bruce?" Mark called, and Bruce, not wanting to look away from the mer, raised his hand in a thumbs-up.

 

Dick watched in an assessing way, then dragged Bruce down again, released him, and watched him rise. This time, about halfway up, he reached for the rebreather and tried to pull it out of the human's mouth.

 

There was a tussle, and Dick ended up successfully stealing the rebreather. When he tried to pull the man deeper, Bruce kicked him away and swam hard for the surface. "Pull in the slack," he called to Mark immediately upon surfacing.

 

The man started to obey. Dick emerged, grabbed Bruce, and started to pull him under again.

 

"No," Bruce said sharply, yanking free. "Not without my rebreather. Give it back." He backed away from Dick, who pursued. "Give me my rebreather."

 

When he reached for it again, the mer threw it.

 

"All right," Bruce said, "I am finished swimming." He started to head for the shallow ledge in earnest, but Dick grabbed his leg and dragged him down, though the line soon went taut and their descent halted. Dick looked defiantly up at his captive. _"LET GO,"_ Bruce signed.

 

Dick made a sharp 'biting' motion with his hand and emitted an ominously low-pitched vocalization.

 

Bruce kicked again, and managed to dislodge the mer. Dick made an angry screech and zoomed away.

 

Bruce surfaced and made his way to dry land, helped up by Mark. "Are you all right?" his supervisor asked urgently.

 

"Fine. He's testing boundaries, I think."

 

"Bruce, this behavior is very aggressive and threatening. He could kill you - don't think you're safe just because he's so small."

 

"I'm the first chance he's had to lash out at the species who imprisoned, exploited, orphaned, and restrained him."

 

Mark's eyes narrowed.

 

"You're doing good work here at ABAZ," Bruce said, knowing he needed to keep the man on his side. "But if you were in his position, wouldn't you have grievances? Wouldn't you have little way of knowing that your guardianship had changed hands? For all he knows, we're in league with Sandy's Ocean World."

 

"How smart do you think he _is_ , Bruce?"

 

"He doesn't need to be smart to know that creatures shaped like me have done unpleasant things to him."

 

Mark turned away, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing at his temples like he was trying hard to hold his anger in check.

 

Bruce turned back to the pool. He was surprised to find that the mer had approached again. Dick was low in the water, eyes just peeking over the submerged platform, one hand gripping the edge. When Bruce looked at him, he raised his other hand and gently set the rebreather in the shallow water like an offering.

 

"It needs to be cleaned out before I can use it again, chum." Bruce walked back out to the ledge and knelt down almost as soon as he stepped onto it. After a moment, Dick hauled himself onto the ledge and slowly crawled close. He held the rebreather to Bruce's face.

 

"I can't use this anymore right now," Bruce explained, gently taking it and trying his best to communicate with words, tone, and miming. "When you take it off underwater, air and water get into the wrong parts, and you have to clean it with a machine before you can use it again. I will put a rebreather on later, maybe tomorrow, and swim with you again. But today, I am finished swimming."

 

Dick looked down at the rebreather for a moment, then pressed it to his own face. He grimaced and lightly tossed it away. Then he looked at Bruce and put his hands on the man's face.

 

Bruce grunted warily, hands hovering over Dick's wrists just short of touching, in case the mer suddenly got violent. Webbed hands experimentally squeezed and patted. Bruce grunted uncomfortably, then winced and tugged the slimy fingers back out of his mouth when they carelessly started to slip in. "No. Leave my mouth alone." The hands moved down his throat, then rested flat against his chest. Bruce began to breathe deliberately, keeping up a deep and slow rhythm, and Dick leaned closer, intent.

 

"The air comes in through my nose, goes down into my lungs, and the carbon dioxide I don't need comes back out. If I'm underwater and use up all the oxygen in my lungs, I don't have gills to fall back on like you do, Dick. I can hold my breath a lot longer than most humans can, but not indefinitely. That's why I need a rebreather to stay submerged when I swim."

 

As he spoke, Dick lifted his eyes to frown at his face, then began vocalizing for several minutes straight, clicks and chitters and whoops. Bruce wished he had his phone so he could record it, and immediately resolved to get one that was designed to work underwater.

 

They spent much of the remainder of Bruce's shift playing with various-sized balls. Dick seemed to enjoy both tossing the beach ball back and forth and racing to fetch the smaller, heavier balls. After a while, he mischievously started throwing balls for Bruce to fetch. "You rascal," Bruce chuckled.

 

The sun had nearly set by the time Mark came up and set his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Bruce, it's long past closing time."

 

"...All right."

 

Dick, reading his friend's body language, grunted anxiously.

 

"Dickie, I have to go home now. Goodbye."

 

Dick made an alarmed noise.

 

"Goodbye, Dick. I will see you tomorrow."

 

_"No!!"_

 

"That is very good signing, Dick, but I still have to leave."

 

o.o.o

 

That night, Bruce called his parents, as he did every week.

 

 _"How has your new job been going?"_ his father asked.

 

"It's been...really interesting." Bruce debated whether to tell them about the merboy. "Did you know that ABAZ has a mer calf?"

 

_"A what?"_

 

"A baby mermaid."

 

 _" Really?!"_ his mother exclaimed in delight.

 

"His name is Dick. His parents were killed, so he was sent to ABAZ and...I get to work with him."

 

 _"That's wonderful, son,"_ Thomas said warmly.

 

 _"What's it like?"_ Martha asked. _"Is he dangerous? Does he sing?"_

 

"It's amazing. He's a wild animal, but I've been careful. I haven't heard him sing yet, but he might someday. He's in captivity, so his behavior isn't going to be completely natural."

 

They spent the rest of the phone call talking about Dick, though Bruce was careful to downplay the more dangerous aspects of his work and the extent to which he'd been interacting with the merboy. His parents probably wouldn't order him back home, but they would be very unhappy and start keeping a much closer eye on him. Although Bruce had been the one most deeply affected by that long-ago mugging, his parents hadn't come out completely unscathed, either. It had been a struggle, both against his parents and himself, for Bruce to leave Gotham, and Thomas and Martha Wayne were still very protective of their only child.

 

Bruce finally asked to say hello to Alfred, then hung up and lay back on his couch, gazing at the ceiling. _'I'm going to see Dick tomorrow,'_ he thought. He smiled a little. _'That kiddo really is something.'_

 

TBC

 

A/N: When I say "rebreather," I mean the small, improbable comic book device the Bats always use underwater, not an actual rebreather in real life, which I think works and looks different. X'''D

 

The source I used for the ASL word "mermaid" says that it's not a common word and that it's usually just fingerspelled, but in this AU where mer actually exist, I figure they'd have a specific (and gender-neutral) sign for it.


	4. Chapter 4 - Eeeee

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter** **4** **\- Eeeee (rough draft 2)**

 

Bruce showed up to work early so he could see Dick for a little while before his shift started. The merboy seemed anxious and restless, and soon showed Bruce his tail, pointing at the half-healed infection.

 

"A little later, we will give you your medicine. Right now we can talk and play, but later--" Bruce showed the calf his watch. "--at 8:00, it will be time for medicine." He traced the numbers. "Right now, it is 7:30, so no medicine. But at 8:00, yes medicine." He signed the word again. "Medicine."

 

 _"...Medicine,"_ Dick repeated anxiously. Then, _"No!"_ he signed, and fled into the depths.

 

Bruce sat by the pool, looking up things on his phone to kill time, until the 'medication brigade' made their way in. "Call him," Mark ordered.

 

Bruce pursed his lips and slapped the water. "Dick!" He tossed out a fish.

 

After a long moment, Dick surfaced, glaring as he munched on the fish.

 

"Dick, come here. Time for medicine."

 

_"No."_

 

"What is that? Is that sign language?" a woman named Vivian gasped, interested despite her resentment.

 

"Yes, I've been trying to teach him. He's starting to pick up bits of it."

 

There was a wave of muted exclamations, but Bruce ignored them, keeping his focus on Dick. "Come here. Time for medicine."

 

Dick submerged. When Bruce's calling went ignored, the net team went to work.

 

This time, the struggling was half-hearted, and Dick trilled resentfully as he was towed instead of his usual panicked shrieking. Once they got close, he smacked Bruce's reaching hand and crawled away, but when many human hands took hold of him to strap him down, he started to scream and struggle in earnest. "B'SSS!"

 

"I'm here, Dickie. Come here, I--" There was some frantic flailing, which ended with Dick trembling in Bruce's arms and clutching at him tightly as his tail was secured. "I know you don't like it," Bruce murmured, moistening his fingers with oil so he could stroke the mer's hair and back. "I know it's not fun, just be patient for a little while and then it will be over for today. You're a very good boy, Dick...."

 

He worked out his phone and looked up videos to show Dick. After a minute, a trembling, wet finger reached to tap, and soon Dick was watching a pair of trapeze artists perform.

 

The calf continued to huddle in Bruce's arms even after the timer finally went off and the straps were removed. "...Do you want to go swim now, Dickie?" Bruce asked gently.

 

"...Ffi'sshh?"

 

"Fish? You want some fish?" Someone quickly set a piece of food into Bruce's hand, which he offered to the calf.

 

Dick frowned, but ate it. He pointed to the timer. "Ffi'sshh."

 

"Oh, _finish_ ," Bruce realized. "Yes, medicine is _finished_ now," he said, enunciating carefully and wondering if it would be a mistake to sign with one hand (the other was currently occupied holding Dick). "You are eating a _fish_." He pointed to emphasize the difference. "Fish. Finish."

 

Dick looked at the small remainder of the food in his hand. "Ffi'sshh?"

 

Bruce walked him through the proper pronunciations, and then Dick signed, _"No medicine?"_

_"Medicine is finished,"_ Bruce signed back.

 

Dick's eyes darted around at the humans (most of them filming him), then experimentally lunged into the water. When no one pursued, he peeked out from a safe distance.

 

"Dick will go and swim, or Dick will stay and talk?" Bruce asked.

 

After a moment, Dick approached, baring his teeth at the other humans to warn them to keep back, and tugged on Bruce's leg. _"Swim,"_ he signed, then pointed at Bruce.

 

"All right. I will swim with you, but first, I must put on my gear."

 

Bruce stood up and stepped away from the pool for the rebreather and the rest. Dick watched in as much fascination as before, breaking his gaze only to snap his fangs at the woman who got too close and attempted to reach out to him.

 

When Bruce was ready, he got into the pool, and Dick drew him down. This time, they spent hours playing and dancing in the water, and Dick never once tried to kill him.

 

o.o.o

 

"Dickie," Bruce said a few days later, "I brought you a gift." He unfolded the T-shirt he had seen in a gift shop on the way to work and presented it to his little friend. He had already coated the inside with oil to make it more comfortable for the mer to wear.

 

Dick chirped in interest and fingered the shiny design, which was a star wearing sunglasses.

 

"Do you want to put it on? Do you want to wear the shirt?"

 

Dick seemed nervous about the garment going over his head, but after some mild flailing, Bruce managed to get it on him and then leaned back. "What do you think? Will you keep it on, or do you want me to take it off?"

 

Dick touched and picked at the shirt, evaluating. He held it out away from his body, then dropped backward into deeper water.

 

After a long minute, he surfaced and did his close-mouthed smile at Bruce. _"Good,"_ he signed. _"Pretty shirt."_

 

"Yes. That is a T-shirt, and what I'm wearing is a polo shirt. Shirt, T-shirt. Shirt, polo shirt."

 

Dick's face twisted. _"I don't like it."_

 

"I know it's a silly distinction, but it's important to some people."

 

_"You come swim. I wait, we swim."_

 

"All right, I'll be with you in just a moment," Bruce said, reaching for the nearby bag with his swim gear.

 

o.o.o

 

Weeks passed. The calf picked up more and more human language, though English was difficult for him to pronounce and he showed a solid preference for ASL. Bruce, in turn, soon realized that Dick actually already had a sign language of his own, which tended more toward broader arm, hand, and tail gestures than the intricate finger and face work of ASL.

 

Stunned by the realization that mer language was apparently much more complex than originally thought, he pored over every video he could find (they were mostly of captive mer, since free ones were so difficult to locate), and found that the signing wasn't unique to Dick. From what he could tell, mer gestures were just as much a part of their language as the vocalizations were. Though Bruce started learning mer language as a hobby, his primary job at ABAZ was interacting with Dick, so Vivian and a couple of newly hired linguists tackled the full-time project of deciphering mer language.

 

Dick became resigned enough to actually come when he was called for medical treatment every morning as long as it was Bruce doing the calling, and in the final week, no one even bothered to strap down his tail at all.

 

Even after the infection fully healed, the calf still remained wary of all humans other than his favorite. He grew a little more tolerant of some of them, but did not allow anyone within reach of him unless Bruce was nearby, preferably holding him.

 

Bruce spent a very large percentage of his waking moments with the mer or at least in close proximity, since he'd quietly moved a sleeping bag into the office and Mark, though likely aware of the situation, never told him to stop camping out at work. Bruce, who had applied for the ABAZ opening while feeling adrift after abandoning his path to teaching, was now very thankful that he had taken the unpaid internship, since getting paid would have meant less leniency when it came to the extra hours he was spending at work.

 

Soon after Dick was healed, there was talk of putting him on display. "We won't get to work with him as much," Bruce said unhappily, superficially including the linguists and biologists with the pronoun but really meaning 'I.'

 

"It'll be limited at first," said Judy, the zoo's corporate liaison. "Just a few hours a day, probably scheduled. Maybe we can design a show around him."

 

White-hot rage spiked through Bruce. "His parents were brutally murdered in front of his eyes during a show they were being forced to put on."

 

"I don't appreciate your manipulative description," Judy said frostily. "It's not 'murder' to put down an attacking animal. Besides, the calf was very young, he's probably forgotten all about it."

 

Bruce opened his mouth to point out that evidence indicated mer lifespans were very similar to humans' and that there was no way an eight-year-old child would forget something like that, but Mark cut in.

 

"It'll be bad PR if activists get wind of an exotic rescue animal being used for shows like that again. We can just try a simple habitat display and see how things go from there."

 

"Fine, but you'll eventually need to work it up to something with more draw," Judy sighed. "It's a waste to watch a _mermaid_ just swimming around doing nothing."

 

"Maybe we could have Bruce play with him in the habitat," Amanda suggested. "I-- _I_ could watch that all day, I think it's very interesting to watch them interact."

 

"No one cares what _you_ find interesting, Amelia. Customers come here to be entertained, and watching some random guy throwing fish at a mermaid isn't most people's idea of entertainment."

 

Everyone else in the room looked like they were holding back strong words, but no one actually spoke. Judy briskly tapped her papers together and put them away in her briefcase. "All right, then, put the habitat together and start getting the marketing people to work on advertising. Meeting adjourned."

 

Bruce immediately went to the mer pool, followed by a few people who had found time to watch. Bruce stepped onto the submerged ledge and hadn't even finished bending down to slap his palm against the water when he saw an approaching shape.

 

He quickly sat down and braced himself just in time for Dick to come launching out of the water and into his arms. "Hello, Dickie."

 

They cuddled for a moment, Bruce's whole front becoming drenched and a bit slimy from the mer calf wrapping limbs around him and nuzzling into his neck, not to mention pressing his soaking wet, tie-dyed T-shirt against the man. "Boose." They'd been working on pronunciation along with vocabulary and grammar. "Boose Boose Boose," the calf hummed.

 

Bruce stroked the calf's back for a minute. Then Dick abruptly hoisted himself away. _"Scooter board!"_ he signed.

 

"Be polite."

 

Dick bared his teeth, but signed readily, _"I want scooter board, please."_

 

"All right, Dickie, I will fetch your scooter board."

 

As soon as the device was near enough, Dick eagerly hauled himself completely out of the water and laid belly-down on the board. He reached out to pull himself along, but Bruce firmly planted a hand on his back. "Wait. I need to put a towel and gloves on you."

 

 _"I do not like to wait,"_ Dick pouted, but stayed still long enough for Bruce to lay wet towels over the calf's tail. Dick also needed loose gloves while he was using the scooter board, since otherwise, he would scrape up his palms on the rough concrete.

 

As soon as Bruce granted permission, Dick reached out and started hauling himself along, the wheels giving him quite a bit of speed. The calf started with a perimeter check, hissing at the spectators until they moved sufficiently far enough out of his way. He pushed at the door of the storage unit, as he always did even though it was locked as usual, then rolled into the office. He pulled himself from the scooter into the chair and looked around from his new vantage point. His face lit up, and he pointed at the new item that had not been in the office last time.

 

"My parents sent this to me," Bruce said, handing the photograph to the mer, who inspected the entire frame and then stared at the picture again. "This is my mother, Martha, and my father, Thomas, and our friend, Alfred. They got a new puppy a few days ago. A puppy is a baby dog. He is a German Shepherd dog, and his name is Ace."

 

"Baby," Dick mused.

 

"Baby dog. Puppy."

 

"Baby do'ck. Puppy," the mer repeated, his voice lisping and accented but understandable.

 

"This particular puppy is named Ace. His name is Ace."

 

"Ace. Hello, Ace."

 

Bruce smiled. "Very good."

 

 _"Good,"_ Dick signed, then added aloud, "Dick ggood."

 

"Yes, you are very good."

 

Dick thrust the photo at Bruce and flopped back onto his scooter, impatient when Bruce stopped him to reapply the towels. Dick rolled out of the office and to the large entryway, which had been barricaded. He pushed at it. _"Bad! I want to go there, please!"_

 

"It is good that you asked politely, but no, Dick, you must stay here."

 

_"Angry!"_

 

"I know. I'm sorry."

 

Dick rolled on until he'd reached the edge of the pool. Then he turned to Bruce and asked, _"I want push, please."_

 

"All right, I will push you." Bruce stepped closer, leaned down, set his hands on the mer's back, and pushed so that the calf went sailing across the concrete more quickly than he'd ever be able to propel himself.

 

"Eeeeeeeeee!" Dick shrieked in pleasure.

 

Bruce pushed him back and forth for a while, then said, "Dick, I am tired. Amanda will push you now." He wasn't actually tired, but he wanted Dick to get more comfortable with being handled by humans other than himself.

 

_"No! You push me!"_

 

"No, I am finished pushing for now. If you want to be pushed some more, then you must let Amanda do it."

 

Dick bared his teeth, but didn't retreat, so Amanda cautiously approached. At the last minute, the mer's displeased wariness turned to fear, and he dragged himself to Bruce's feet. "Boose! Sscare!" he pleaded, clinging to Bruce's leg.

 

"There is no reason to be scared. Amanda is safe. Do you want Amanda to push you, or are you finished with pushing?"

 

".....Boose pussh," Dick whimpered.

 

"No Bruce push. Either Amanda push, or no push. Do you want Amanda push, or do you want no push?"

 

After a long pause, Dick let go long enough to sign _"Do not hurt me"_ at Amanda before grabbing Bruce's leg again.

 

Bruce interpreted, and the woman crooned, "I won't hurt you, sweetheart. No one's going to hurt you. We just want to play."

 

She tried giving him a fish; he ate it but didn't warm up to her. It was only when she held out the hand with her engagement ring sparkling on one finger that Dick perked in wary interest.

 

"Do you like my ring?" she asked. "It's very shiny and pretty. You like shiny, pretty things, right, Dickie?"

 

She patiently held out her hand until Dick ventured near enough to inspect the ring. He cooed as he turned her hand this way and that, watching the sunlight play through the sparkling facets of the jewel.

 

"This is called a 'ring,' Dick," Bruce explained. "Ring."

 

"Week."

 

"Rin-guh."

 

"Wi-guh."

 

When the mer seemed relaxed enough, Amanda, moving slowly, set her hands on his shoulders, making sure to stay in front of him where he could watch her. "You want a push, Dickie?"

 

_"Push!"_

 

"All right, here we go!" Her first try was too light, and Dick squealed in displeasure when he came to a halt just a couple of feet away. "I'm sorry!" Amanda gasped, "I'm sorry! Let me try again, honey, I'm so sorry." She managed to get it right the second time.

 

"Eeeeeeeeee!"

 

Amanda smiled in relief as she watched him sail away. "He's so cute."

 

Her third try was successful as well. Her fourth try sent Dick rolling right over the edge of the pool and into the water, prompting dismayed exclamations from the spectators clustered by the entryway.

 

Amanda stared at the spot where Dick had disappeared with her hands clapped over her mouth and her eyes wide with horror, but a moment later, Dick popped out of the water, waving the scooter board high over his head with both hands. "EEE!" He tossed the scooter back onto the concrete and signed enthusiastically, _"Again! Please!"_

 

The second time Dick got scootered into the pool, he swam in several quick circles underwater and then breached twice in a row, prompting gasps. No one had ever seen captive mer breaching without being prompted by humans; there was some debate about whether such behavior was even natural.

 

 _'Guess that answers that question,'_ Bruce thought.

 

Dick surfaced again and swam to the edge nearest Bruce. _"Off, please!"_

 

"All right." Bruce crouched down to remove the calf's waterlogged gloves.

 

 _"Scooter board finished. I want you swim, please._ Ggea'," the mer added aloud.

 

"That's right, I have to put on my gear before I swim with you. Can you say 'thank you' to Amanda for pushing you?"

 

 _"Thank you,"_ Dick signed carelessly, not looking at her.

 

"Thank you for letting me play with you, Dick," Amanda said warmly.

 

TBC

 

A/N: I, understandably, could not find an ASL translation for "scooter board," but I figured there would be some way to convey the term that experienced signers either know or could make up.

 

**I dropped the ball and let this dead end route go on longer than it should have, but here it is if anyone's interested:**

 

She tried giving him a fish; he ate it but didn't warm up to her. It was only when she pulled off her engagement ring and held it out that he perked in wary interest.

 

"Amanda, you might lose that ring," Bruce instantly warned her.

 

"Rings are replaceable." She held out the ring patiently until Dick at last snatched it away and inspected it closely. He cooed as he turned the ring this way and that, watching the sunlight play through the sparkling facets of the jewel.

 

"Dick, borrow," Bruce warned. Then, since it wasn't a word the mer already knew, "You will look at the ring, and then you will _give it back_. You will borrow it, and when you are finished, you will _give it back to Amanda_."

 

Dick eyed him in a way that Bruce suddenly realized was trouble. Then the mer opened his mouth and started to put the ring inside.

 

Bruce's frantic grab for the ring before it could be swallowed resulted in panicked shrieking, and Dick started to haul himself frantically toward the pool; Bruce, seeing the mer starting to hurt himself, snatched him up and ran forward a couple of steps until he was near enough to throw the calf into the water.

 

Submerged, Dick zipped around in a few agitated circles before retreating to hide in the farthest corner for over half an hour.

 

When the mer finally surfaced again, it took several long minutes for Bruce to coax him close.

 

_"You are angry at me!!"_

 

"No, Dick, no, I'm very sorry. I am very sorry for scaring you, Dick. The ring was safe to play with, but it was dangerous to eat. I was scared, Dick. I thought you might get hurt, so I was scared."

 

_"You are angry, hurt me."_

 

"I'm so sorry. Will you let me look at your tail, Dickie? Please let me look at your tail and see if it's hurt?"

 

Dick reluctantly lifted his tail out of the water. There were some bedraggled scales, but he didn't seem to be outright injured. As soon as Bruce released him, the calf raised his hands dolefully. Bruce exhaled in mild amusement and carefully removed the waterlogged gloves. "Better?"

 

Dick opened and shut his hands several times, then signed, _"Good."_ He looked at Bruce. _"Small shiny is bad?"_

 

" 'Small shiny'? You mean Amanda's ring?"

 

"Ama'kda i'?"

 

Bruce showed him pictures of rings on his phone and taught the mer how to say the word more-or-less correctly.


	5. Chapter 5 - "You're (Un)fired!"

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter** **5** **\- "You're (Un)fired!" (rough draft 2)**

 

"Dick," Bruce said seriously, and the mer's eyes widened in apprehension. "There is going to be a big change soon. You will be moved to a different pool for three hours per day." He had argued for one or two; management had wanted six; Mark had bargained it to an initial three. "A lot of people will come to look at you, but they will be outside the tank, and they cannot hurt you."

 

 _"Hurt me?"_ Dick asked anxiously.

 

"No. It will not hurt. You will only be moved. You will have a different pool to swim in sometimes, but every day you will come back here to this one."

 

_"You stay with me."_

 

"I don't know yet if I will be allowed to, but I will be here in the back pool to play with you when display is finished. Okay?"

 

_"You STAY."_

 

Dick got clingy after that, and even more suspicious of other humans than usual. When the day came for his first move to the display habitat, after-hours so as to get him accustomed to it before his official debut, he saw all the humans gathering close to the pool and fled into a deep, far corner. He refused to come out even for Bruce.

 

Bruce looked up from slapping the water, his other hand full of fish, and was horrified to see a net being brought in. "Wait, just give me--"

 

"Move, Wayne," the zoo director, Ryan, said brusquely.

 

"He's scared! Dragging him by force will only make it worse!"

 

" _You_ were the one who tipped him off, now get out of the way before you cause any more damage."

 

Bruce stared, trembling a little with fierce anger. Then he threw the fish back into the bucket, stood up, and managed to grab a rebreather and dive into the pool seconds after the net had been dropped into the water.

 

 _"NO!"_ Dick signed when he saw him, but then caught sight of the net and shrieked. He darted around, panicked, and Bruce wished he had thought to bring a tone-emitter to get the mer's attention underwater.

 

Dick, realizing that he was trapped and the net was advancing, dashed into Bruce's arms and clung. The man swam hard for the surface and, still gripping Dick, dragged himself out of the pool one-handed. Ignoring all the shouts, he hoisted the mer up into his arms and marched away, leaving a trail of water behind him.

 

He carried Dick all the way to the habitat and gently dropped him in. Dick immediately swam to the deepest, farthest corner he could find and huddled there.

 

Bruce turned back to all the people who had followed him, eyes flicking from Mark's wry-looking expression to Ryan's incensed one. "Easier and more efficient than a net."

 

"That was against protocol, Wayne!" Ryan bellowed. "He'd have been hurt if you dropped him, he could have escaped, he could have--"

 

"He could have been hurt by the net! There is no possible way that poor boy could escape from this place!"

 

"YOU'RE FIRED, WAYNE! GET OUT!!"

 

Bruce, shaking a little, restrained the urge to put his hands around Ryan's throat and started to walk out as calmly as he could.

 

"BOOSE! BOOSE!"

 

He flinched and looked back. Dick was frantically trying to pull himself out of the water, but a crowd of people were holding him back. When he violently resisted, someone came up with a catch pole. "No!" Bruce cried, remembering that the last time he'd seen a tool like that, it had been involved in the death of Dick's father. "No, wait, let me talk to him--"

 

"GET OUT BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE," Ryan bellowed at him.

 

Bruce was nearly crying with rage and helplessness and grief for Dick as he headed out to his car. It took a while for him to notice the woman who was keeping pace with him and trying to get his attention. "Mr. Wayne? Mr. Wayne?"

 

Bruce paused and peered at her. "Oh...Ms. Ayers," he realized, finally recognizing the documentary producer who had seen advertisements for the zoo's upcoming mer exhibit and had talked her way into getting a behind-the-scenes peek.

 

"Mr. Wayne, would you like to be interviewed for the film?"

 

"I...don't ask me anything right now," Bruce said, not wanting to make any major decisions when he was so distraught.

 

"Would you like me to get you in touch with some contacts I have in the press?"

 

Bruce paused. If Ryan really had been serious in firing him, probably his only chance of getting back to poor Dick would be spreading the story and getting the public on his side. "I.... You can give them my number. I have to go home."

 

It had been so long since Bruce had been in his apartment that it was a stale, musty mess. He shuffled around in a daze, mechanically warming up some canned food for a meal and sorting through his piled-up mail, throwing away most of it. When his cell phone started ringing with unfamiliar numbers, he ignored it, but he did respond to a text from a journalist, saying he'd give serious consideration to doing an interview.

 

Then he went to bed.

 

o.o.o

 

People came for the exotic notion of a mer'maid,' and stayed for the tragic tale of separation. Bruce's interview got a lot of attention, and almost immediately, there were protestors in front of the zoo and a flood of phone calls and emails, demanding that Bruce be reinstated.

 

Two days before the mer exhibit was supposed to open, Bruce got a call from Ryan. "Bruce, I don't know how you got the impression that we let you go, but it was a misunderstanding. You need to come in to work tomorrow."

 

Bruce didn't push the 'misunderstanding' claim. "All right." He showed up before 6:00 a.m.; only the security guards and a few overnight staff were there. Bruce was alarmed when he couldn't find Dick in either his usual pool or the new habitat, and no one seemed to know where the calf was being kept.

 

As soon as Mark pulled into the parking lot, Bruce was out the door, and ambushed the man before he'd even reached the steps.

 

Mark winced. "Just so you know, they isolated and restrained him _against_ my recommendation."

 

"WHERE IS HE, MARK."

 

"Step away from me, Wayne," the smaller man demanded, and Bruce grudgingly backed off. "Get me another cup of coffee, and I'll show you."

 

Bruce was finally led to the pool where the most ornery of the dolphins was usually kept. The animal drifted lethargically near the middle, and Mark made his way to a smaller pen on the side.

 

"Dick!" Bruce cried, hurrying ahead. "Dick!"

 

At the sound of his voice, the still submerged form thrashed, then the mer surfaced, crying out.

 

"Why is there a fucking _muzzle_ on him?!"

 

"Because he was fucking _biting_ people, Bruce."

 

There was no submerged ledge here; Bruce crouched at the edge of the pool and stretched out his hand. Dick seemed to be trying to reach him, but something was holding him back.

 

"What--?!" It finally registered that the calf's garment was not one of the usual T-shirts. "What is he wearing?!"

 

"Bruce," Mark warned pre-emptively, "you already got fired, you're gonna want to think really, really hard before you go storming into anyone's office or making any phone calls."

 

"WHAT THE FUCK IS HE--?!" Giving up mid-cry, Bruce plunged into the pool and discovered, to his horror, that the mer was bound in a makeshift straitjacket, with a cord attached from the back of the garment to a ring in the wall.

 

Bruce didn't know any words foul enough to express his rage. He worked as quickly as he could to get the muzzle off and hurled it away. Dick immediately started ramming against him and biting him, but Bruce was too solid to be moved much and the bites were shallow, so he let the calf vent. He dragged Dick out of the pool so he could get the restrictive garment unfastened.

 

As soon as Dick was free, he screamed and leaped back into the pool, dashing in a few crazed circles before jumping back onto the concrete and hurling himself across the rough surface, scraping his body low as if deliberately trying to harm himself.

 

"Dick, stop! Dick!" Bruce got him into the restraining hold and Dick's cries crescendoed, tears streaming down his face as he wailed his fear and pain and fury. "I know, I know, Dick, it's terrible, no one should ever have treated you like this. I'm so sorry, Dickie, I'm so sorry, I'm here now, I've got you...."

 

Eventually, the mer's cries died down and he shouted laboriously, "I...mmad...you...!"

 

"I'm sorry, Dickie. I'm sorry."

 

"Hhan'! HHAN'!"

 

"Only if you don't hurt yourself. You can hurt me if you need to, but don't hurt yourself, Dickie."

 

Bruce cautiously let go, and the mer slapped him hard with his tail. _"You!"_ Dick's hands screamed in a wild mix of ASL and mer signing, _"You LEFT! You hurt me! THEY hurt me! I'm angry! ANGRY!!"_

 

"You have a right to be angry," Bruce said, clumsily echoing in mer sign. "You were hurt, so now you are angry, yes."

 

All the tension seemed to drain out of Dick's body and he lay down, limp and weeping. Bruce carefully drew the calf into his arms and picked him up.

 

Mark, focused very hard on his coffee, wiped his eyes when Bruce passed.

 

Dick lay lethargically in his own pool for a couple of hours, ignoring all attempts to engage or even feed him. When Bruce dressed the mer in his shiny star shirt, Dick didn't resist but also didn't show any reaction to his favorite T-shirt. He didn't show any reaction to Bruce briefly leaving, either, but when Bruce came back, the calf was at the edge of the pool, arms stretched out and crying.

 

"I'm here, Dickie, I'm here, chum, I just had to go grab some more bandages, you really did a number on me earlier...."

 

Eventually, Ryan came stalking in, and Dick instantly fled to a deep corner. "We need to take him to the habitat."

 

"He's been traumatized," Bruce protested in seething disbelief. "He needs time to rest and recover, not--"

 

"Are you the EXPERT here, Wayne?" Ryan demanded viciously. "Are YOU the one with multiple degrees in marine studies? NO. You're just some arrogant _prick_ who thinks mer are right up there with magical fucking unicorns, you have _no fucking idea_ what you're doing. Mer exhibit opens _tomorrow_ , Wayne. Get him to the habitat, carry him like a delicate fucking princess and save us some time and manpower. Only reason I'm not firing your ass is so your fucking billionaire mommy and daddy will get off our backs."

 

Bruce had a lot to say in response, but he forced his mouth shut and spent the next hour coaxing Dick close enough to gently pull him out of the water and carry him to the habitat.

 

Dick screamed when he saw it and clung tight. "No! No! No!"

 

"I'm sorry, Dick, I'm so sorry, but I have to put you in here or we're both going to be in trouble...."

 

Bruce had to get right into the pool himself, treading water as he held the still desperately clinging mer. The only way he was allowed to rest was to hang onto the side of the pool with Dick hanging onto his neck. "I'm not leaving, chum. I promise I won't leave unless someone very important makes me, or I absolutely have to. I know you don't want to be alone, and I don't want you to be alone, either."

 

Ryan finally came in at one point. "Get him to look around. You can't be swimming in here when the guests are watching."

 

Bruce looked up at him, trying very hard not to glare, Dick's hissing loud in his ears. "I don't have anything to work with here. I need some toys, at the very least. He likes shiny, colorful thi--" Ryan stalked off.

 

A little later, Amanda came in with a box. "How are you guys doing?" she asked quietly.

 

"He's an eight-year-old child who was violently separated from the only living person he trusts, muzzled and tied up for a day, and displaced again without having any time to recover from the trauma. How do _you_ think he's doing?"

 

She burst into tears. "We just want to help him!" she sobbed. "I'm _sorry_ he was scared, but we didn't know, and Ryan and George and Judy and the others won't listen to us, and I just want to _help_ but he hates me and I don't know what to do, Bruce, I'm so sorry...!"

 

Bruce was still trying to decipher the sob-distorted jumble when Dick said quietly, "Boose."

 

"What is it, chum?"

 

Dick looked unhappily at his hold on the man. Bruce put his arms around the mer, which made Dick feel secure enough to let go so he could sign. _"Why she cry?"_

 

"She feels guilty," Bruce murmured back. "She cares about you, and she is sad that you are sad."

 

_"Good-you leave, people yell and chase, tie me hurt me."_

 

Bruce debated whether to tell the calf that violent resistance made it worse. On one hand, it would probably be safer and more convenient all around if Dick was more compliant. On the other hand, he didn't feel right about encouraging the mer to submit to people causing him harm. What he needed was _time_ to build trust between Dick and people like Amanda and maybe Mark who genuinely cared about him, so that they could tend to his needs with respect and gentleness the way Bruce could. Unfortunately, he didn't have time. The zoo had been promoting a new mer exhibit for weeks, and they're weren't going to postpone it at the last minute.

 

"Dick," he said, slowly and very quietly, "you are a lot prisoner, and I am a little prisoner. You are very much trapped, captive, forced. I am a little bit trapped, captive, forced. But neither of us are truly free."

 

Dick was intently focused on him. After a long moment, he signed, _"People tie you?"_

 

Bruce continued to be amazed at what the mer understood of human communication. "They...they tie my heart. They tie your arms and tail with ropes, but they tie my heart with rules and orders."

 

Dick gently set his hand on Bruce's chest. "Sad Boose."

 

"I am sad because I don't know how to help you better." He touched his forehead to the calf's. Dick nuzzled his face and licked his cheek.

 

Bruce turned to Amanda, who was hugging her knees as she watched them forlornly. "Did you bring some toys, Amanda?"

 

"A few...." She pushed the box closer, and Dick, still gripping Bruce's shirt with one hand, chirped with interest as he sorted through the contents. He held up a squeaky toy, squeezed it, and let out a brief "Eee!" of pleasure.

 

Bruce spent the rest of the day playing with Dick, and Amanda came in to help every time she could spare a minute. Dick gradually warmed up to her, although he did not like for her to be out of his line of vision or to touch him without explicit permission.

 

Dick started to panic when Bruce tried to leave for lunch. Luckily, a dolphin trainer named Miki took pity on him and brought him a pile of snacks from the vending machine in the lounge. The mer couldn't bear Bruce leaving at the end of his official shift, either, so Bruce enlisted Amanda's help in rearranging some of the aboveground decorations and hiding a sleeping bag and a padded mat behind them. She circled around to the outside of the habitat to check that the bed was hidden from the sight of anyone looking through the transparent parts of the tank.

 

Dick watched the proceedings curiously. _"What are you doing?"_

 

"I want to sleep here with you, Dick, but if some of my bosses find out, they will be angry at me, and I will be in trouble. I have to hide; it will be a secret. Sshh."

 

"Sshh."

 

"That's right. Quiet, secret."

 

_"You stay here."_

 

"Yes."

 

o.o.o

 

Bruce woke up in the middle of the night because something large, soaking wet, and slimy was hauling itself onto his sleeping bag. "Diiiick," he groaned.

 

Arms wrapped around him; a tail flopped over his legs. Bruce sighed deeply, then put his arm around the mer's waist. He contemplated getting up and putting Dick back in the pool, but fell asleep again before he could decide. He woke up to early morning sunlight and a spray of water in his face that Dick was cheerfully squirting through his teeth.

 

"No," Bruce groaned. "Bad fish. Stop that."

 

_"Good morning!"_

 

"Good morning....."

 

Dick was scheduled to be on display from 11:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. He cried when Bruce was forced to leave him at 10:45, and Bruce wondered how much of a disaster this was going to be.

 

Bruce was assigned to be a tour guide on the route that included the mer exhibit. Ordinarily, he would have been more nervous, as trying to keep customers interested and entertained was a different kind of public speaking than addressing the businesspeople and gala guests he was used to. Now, however, all he could think of was tiny, terrified Dick, and he honestly didn't give a flip about what these tourists thought of his performance.

 

He recited facts and trivia, making only a half-hearted effort to conceal the script he was carrying (he'd never gotten the chance to memorize it as he would have done if he wasn't obsessed with a baby mer). When people asked non-mer-related questions that weren't included in his script, he did some verbal acrobatics to produce non-answers to the ones he had no idea how to reply to, which was most of them. When people nagged and pestered him about the 'mermaid,' he hid the fact that he was even more eager to see Dick than they were, and told them over and over again that the mer habitat was the final stop on the route.

 

At last, the first group of guests was led into the underground grotto-like enclosure with a view into the mer habitat. Bruce hurried through a sugary introduction, eyes fruitlessly scanning the water for Dick. He stopped some brats from banging on the side of the tank and continued rambling as he wondered how to summon the mer into view.

 

Then the guests shrieked in surprise and excitement when a finned figure suddenly shot into view and slammed against the transparent wall. Dick's mouth moved in the shape of Bruce's name, his voice lost in the tank, eyes fixed intently on his friend, hands and forehead pressed against the barrier.

 

 _"Hello, D-i-c-k,"_ Bruce signed. Dick didn't really know the alphabet yet, but he had learned to recognize the sequence of finger movements that made up his name.

 

_"B! Help!"_

_"You are all right, Dick. Safe. Be calm and patient. I will visit you later."_

_"Angry!"_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Come here!!"_

_"Later."_

 

"He knows SIGN LANGUAGE?!" one of the guests exclaimed incredulously.

 

Bruce stifled a sigh and turned back to do his job. "Mer are very intelligent, but we don't know much about them. Part of our work here at ABAZ is studying how much communication we can teach Dickie here."

 

"Why isn't she wearing seashells?" a mother demanded, covering her son's eyes. "It's indecent!"

 

It took Bruce a moment to recover from the...unexpectedness of the question. "Dick is a male, and a calf." _'And not a Disney character,'_ he added silently. "Mer are animals, so they don't have human standards of modesty, and adult females only wear swimsuit tops during shows, er...." To stave off potential lawsuits from offended guests, honestly, though he probably wasn't supposed to say that. "For decoration. That being said, Dick actually likes to wear T-shirts, but, uh...."

 

He wondered if he was allowed to say that it had been forbidden for the mer to wear clothing while on display. Then he wondered if he would get in trouble for letting slip that Dick normally liked to wear clothes. He could see at least two people in the crowd intently scribbling notes. "We thought it was...best if Dickie was presented in his most natural state." If being stuck in a tank with sterile water, artificial rock formations, frozen food, and no parents could be considered 'natural.'

 

"He's so pretty," a young girl cooed, craning to look at Dick better. The angry little mer had raced around the habitat in protest of Bruce 'ignoring' him, then sunk to the bottom in a sulk. When he realized he was being noticed, he rose up and arced in a vertical circle. This prompted some oohs and ahs, and the whole crowd pressed itself against the side of the tank. Dick, looking intrigued, swam slowly past them. Then he stopped, backed away a bit, and smiled widely, baring his sharp teeth. He sweetly made a mer sign that Bruce was pretty sure was the equivalent of isolating the middle finger in certain cultures.

 

"Dickie sure is excited to see you all!" Bruce exclaimed brightly, in his best tour guide voice. "For our last five minutes, does anyone have any questions?"

 

Of course they did, and Bruce was still fielding questions even after he'd _finally_ , with some help from Mark, persuaded everyone to get moving and leave the grotto area. He was late getting to his next group.

 

Now that he had a bit of experience under his belt, it was a little easier, though he still chafed at the frustration of being away from Dick. The guests seemed restless, too, most of them not seeming very interested in anything that was not the promised mermaid. Bruce was very eager to finally be able to step back into the grotto.

 

Dick slammed himself against the side of the tank again. _"STAY."_

_"Be patient. I am working."_

_"Angry bored I want you come here BORED!!"_

 

There was a grunting squeal from the back of the crowd. A group of about five children, followed hastily by two women with name tags and T-shirts from a school for the Deaf, rushed closer to the tank and immediately began signing at Dick.

 

_"You know ASL?!"_

_"That is so COOL!"_

_"You're so beautiful, I love you!"_

_"Hi, my name is P-a-t-t-y! I'm so excited to meet you!"_

_"Are you deaf?! That's awesome!"_

 

Even the teachers looked delighted. _"Hello! We're so glad you know ASL!"_

_"You are very smart and wonderful, I'm so glad to meet you!"_

 

Dick stared at them all in astonishment. _"Hand talk! Help me! Bad people kill Mom Dad, tie me, hurt me! Help! Please help! Please!"_

 

The expressions on the human signers' faces had changed to horror.

 

Bruce stepped up and signed to Dick, _"Remember, your parents did not die here. They died at the other place."_

 

Dick, pressed up against the side of the tank, stared at Bruce intently.

 

One of the Deaf children waved to get Bruce's attention. _"Who is hurting him?!"_

 

Bruce tried to figure out how to answer, keenly aware of both Dick watching him and the fact that he would probably be fired for good if he made the zoo look bad. _"I disagreed with my boss and was sent away for a few days. While I was gone, Dick was put in a small pool, but now that I am back, I will try to make things better for him."_

 

Dick signed slowly and emphatically. _"Mom. Dad. DEAD."_

_"Yes, Dick, it was terrible. No one wanted your mom and dad to die. Things went very wrong that day."_

 

Dick slammed his fists against the tank wall and then rushed away.

 

Meanwhile, all the other guests who didn't know ASL were getting restless and frustrated; several kids were whining. "Well," Bruce addressed them all, feeling at a loss, "that's it for...the tour, so...enjoy the rest of your day, folks! Let's head on out...."

 

The Deaf children lingered outside, peppering Bruce with questions that he did his best to answer.

 

 _"Is he happy here in the zoo?"_ one little girl asked anxiously.

 

_"He is still grieving his parents. It might be a long time before he is happy again."_

 

One of the teachers asked, her eyes hard, _"Is he ever restrained or physically punished?"_

_"He had an infection on his tail that we had to put medicine on every day. He didn't like it, but we had to keep his tail still to put the medicine on it."_

_"If his parents were still alive, would he be happy here?"_

 

All Bruce could respond was, _"We will never know."_ He felt so torn, knowing exactly how they all felt with their concern over Dick's well-being, yet forced to defend the institution that was holding the mer captive.

 

2:00 could not come soon enough. On the dot, Bruce shut and locked the doors to the grotto, then hurried up to the employee entrance to the habitat. "Dick," he called.

 

He sat by the water for a long time before Dick finally rose up. _"They want to help me. You want me to hurt."_

"No, Dickie," Bruce said softly. "I told you, I am a prisoner, too. Those days I was gone, they wanted to send me away forever, so I would never see you again. But I talked to some people, and they pestered zoo management and I was able to come back here. But they can still send me away again, and I have to be careful."

 

After a long moment, the calf's eyes filled with tears. _"I want Mom and Dad."_

 

Bruce's own eyes stung in sympathy. "I know, chum. I know you miss them."

 

 _"What is word?"_ Dick asked as he cried, and mimed and described it until Bruce figured out what he wanted.

 

"Oh...blood. This...this is 'blood.' "

 

_"Blood. A lot of blood. Mom and Dad die."_

 

At last, the mer leaned against Bruce, who hugged him. "I watched the video of when they died.... It was terrible, I was very sad. I know you are more sad than I was, though."

 

 _"Mama, Papa,"_ Dick said in mer language, _"I love you."_

 

TBC

 

A/N: To clarify, Amanda was talking about her entire experience with Dick, not just the most recent stuff. She's one of those who would have treated Dick the way Bruce is treating him now if she hadn't subconsciously taken too many cues from the higher-level staff.

 

It makes a difference whether you capitalize the word "deaf" or not. Lowercase simply means that the person cannot hear; uppercase means that they are part of the Deaf community.

Also, I found out that ASL has completely different signs for "awesome" as in "inspiring awe," and "awesome" as in "That's super cool!" since those two meanings really are completely different and can be confusing or incongruous if the context is misunderstood. It's always bugged me that the English term has gotten so corrupted.

 

*random mini-rant* Did you guys know how freaking many toxins are in our environment, including our food and our body products?! I thought I already knew about a lot of it, but the other day, I found out how awful most sunscreens are; they're actually more likely to _cause_ cancer rather than prevent it. If you do need to use sunblock, use a mineral-based kind, not chemical-based. And anything with parabens or "fragrance" in the ingredient list is most likely toxic. I don't use many body care products, but of course I do have to use a few - I was going through my bathroom cabinets after finding out about the sunscreen thing (and spending the time I meant to write doing research on what the heck the ingredient "fragrance" is instead X'''D), and nearly every bottle I looked at had poison in the ingredients. -.- No wonder so many people these days are getting cancer and allergies and stuff.


	6. Chapter 6 - Currents

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter** **6** **\- Currents (rough draft 2)**

 

Bruce started lining his sleeping bag with plastic so that Dick could cuddle with him every night. Bruce was also very glad that his parents were billionaires, because it meant he could afford hiring a college kid to housesit his apartment and bring him meals and clean clothes every day. He basically lived at ABAZ, with his sympathetic coworkers helping to conceal this fact from Ryan and the others who disliked him. On his alleged days off when it was too risky to be in the employee areas, he wandered the park in street clothes and tried not to give in to the accusing Puppy Eyes Dick fixed him with during each tour in the designated mer display hours.

 

It was a lot harder to play with Dick in the habitat, and the office was marginally more comfortable to camp out in than the space behind the habitat's decorative vegetation was, so Bruce started carrying Dick back and forth between the display area and the calf's behind-the-scenes pool every day. Dick soon grew very comfortable with this, and Amanda once sent Bruce a video she'd snatched of Dick cheerfully chittering and signing in Bruce's arms as his tail wagged in enthusiasm.

 

Dick's T-shirt collection was also growing. Amanda and the others had started a contest, bringing garments as gifts to Dick and earning a point for every day he chose one of the shirts they'd given him to wear. Bruce was still far in the lead with his star shirt, but an awful standard blue, sky blue, and gold monstrosity from Amanda was in second place - everyone had caught on quickly that the mer favored shiny, colorful, or novel styles best.

 

Management had forbidden the use of ASL and conversational English toward Dick after investigators came to investigate abuse claims. The investigators had spent some time behind closed doors with Ryan and Judy, then proclaimed ABAZ innocent of any wrongdoing in their report. Even so, human language was declared 'detrimental to the mer's mental development,' and many guests were frustrated at being immediately shut down whenever they tried to sign at the mer.

 

Bruce only dared to continue teaching Dick ASL and English in secret, mostly at night. During the day, they kept most of their communication confined to mer language, their signs muted. Management didn't seem to have a problem with the vocal part of it, and the silver lining was that Bruce got a lot more practice in. Eventually, Dick even stopped laughing at his attempts to click and whistle like a mer.

 

Dick's fame and his display hours increased. Eventually, select researchers were allowed to study the calf; many more visited the park as guests and observed what they could from the public side of the tank.

 

"Would you consider him to be an animal?" one of them asked Bruce as the kids were taking a few minutes to press against the tank and take pictures of Dick. The mer was being cooperative today, swimming slowly to show off his shining scales and delicate fins.

 

"I...I'm not qualified to...answer that." Bruce honestly didn't know how he would answer the question. It suddenly occurred to him that he could ask the mer himself.

 

"Do you think his intelligence is equal to that of a human?"

 

"I have no idea what his intellectual limits are, but he _is_ pretty smart."

 

"What are some examples of his intellectual capacity?" the woman asked intently, no longer bothering to hide her notepad.

 

"He...I'm not sure I'm-- allowed to answer that, but.... Well, he understands new tasks pretty quickly, if I explain it right. Whether he actually performs or not is another matter, but he usually knows what we want him to do."

 

"Could you give any specific examples?"

 

"Well, like.... If he needs to be groomed, we'll say 'Time for grooming' and point at the mat, and he'll hop out of the pool and lie on it so we can go over his tail. Or if we tell him to pose for a picture, he really does _pose_ , just like a human child would. If he doesn't feel like doing it at the moment, we can-- you can just-- _tell_. It's not that he's confused, he knows perfectly well what we want and he just doesn't want to do it."

 

"What about counting? Or finding things, or identifying colors or pictures? Have you tested him on any of that?"

 

"Sometimes, yes. He's almost as good at those tasks as a human equivalent would be."

 

"Music?"

 

"We've played all sorts of stuff for him. He seems to like boy bands a lot, and he _really_ likes circus and calliope music."

 

The woman's eager questioning was interrupted by a couple of the kids getting into a tussle, and Bruce realized he was running late and needed to get started with the next group.

 

o.o.o

 

"Dick," Bruce asked that night, after doing his best to explain the difference between humans and animals, "are you an animal? Yes or no?"

 

Dick looked at him for a while. _"Why?"_ he finally asked.

 

"Human beings think that mer are animals, but I want to know if _you_ think you are an animal."

 

 _"...No animal,"_ Dick finally signed.

 

"Are you a human being?"

 

 _"NO,"_ was the immediate reply.

 

"Okay," Bruce said softly, stroking the calf to soothe him. "It's okay. I was just curious." He didn't bother to ask whether Dick saw himself as a person or not, because the answer was already obvious.

 

o.o.o

 

A documentary called _Siren Song_ was released, about the controversy of keeping mer and other marine mammals in captivity. A long segment featured the tragic incident where Dick's parents had been killed, followed by a shorter segment on Dick himself. Bruce had been sent a copy of the film by the producer he'd spoken to, and watched it on his phone late at night with Dick curled up against his side.

 

He tried to skip over the scene when he thought it was coming, but didn't skip far enough, and Dick clawed at his hands when the calf caught a glimpse of his parents. "Dick," Bruce warned, "this scene is very sad and scary. You will watch your mom and dad die. There will be blood. It will be sad and scary."

 

_"I want Mom and Dad."_

 

"They are dead. This video will show your mom and dad hurting and dying. Do you understand?"

 

_"Mom and Dad dead."_

 

"You will watch them die."

 

Tears were streaming down Dick's face. _"Yes."_

 

Thankfully, the actual footage didn't include the most graphic parts. Bruce still held Dick close as the sequence played, and backed it up when the calf wanted to see it again, commentary and interviews and all.

 

_"Mom and Dad dead. People kill them."_

 

"Dick," Bruce asked softly, "why did your mom and dad attack the humans?" It was pretty easy to guess, even without knowing mer language, and now that he did, he was startled to realize he recognized a bit of what the adult mer had said in their final moments. Whenever he got some time alone, he wanted to watch the raw, leaked footage again and see how much he could understand.

 

_"Dad must get out. GET OUT. Must be free or die. Humans hurt him. Mom protects her-- Teach me."_

"Her mate? Her husband? 'Mate' is who she has babies with. 'Husband' is who she has babies with _and_ loves and stays with forever."

 

_"Husband. People hurt Dad. Mom says 'DO NOT HURT HUSBAND' and protects him. She is weak, they kill her. Dad is weak, they kill him. Baby me is alone."_

 

After a long time, Bruce murmured, "I wish I could help you. I wish I could make it better for you. But I am weak, too, and I can't protect you."

 

_"...You...have good hugs. And good T-shirts. You are nice, I like you."_

 

"I like you, too, Dick. ...I love you. Very much. I love you."

 

The calf looked at him with his liquid sapphire eyes. "Boose."

 

"Yes?"

 

"Pu' me in water. _Good_ water. There. Real water."

 

"It...Dick...if I take you away and put you in the ocean...they will put me in jail. They will lock me up in a small room, and I can't...get out." He swallowed, struck cold by the irony.

 

_"B. I am in small room. I can't get out."_

 

Bruce swallowed as he stared at the ceiling, holding this precious child in his arms, trying to accustom himself to the idea of setting Dick free and probably being arrested for theft of a creature worth millions of dollars.

 

Dick relaxed. "Boose, ssshhh. Okay. Okay, Boose, sssshhh. _I stay in small room, not you. Come play with me in small room. .....Why do you cry?! I am confused!"_

 

o.o.o

 

 _Siren Song_ caused a public outcry. Although Sandy's Ocean World got the brunt of it, ABAZ and other companies in the industry were affected, too. Letters and phone calls poured in; social media was on fire; celebrities and politicians spoke out against holding mer in captivity.

 

Bruce was startled to come back to Dick's pool after a shower and find a stranger crouched on the edge, signing to a wary Dick who was hovering out of arm's reach.

 

"May I see your visitor's badge, please?" Bruce asked at once.

 

The man startled and straightened up, but then smiled charmingly and quickly flashed a badge of some sort. It didn't look like any sort of badge associated with ABAZ.

 

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Bruce said firmly.

 

"Do mind answering a few questions first?" the man asked without missing a beat.

 

Bruce moved far away from him and held out his arms; Dick immediately rushed to him. "There are cameras filming us right this moment. I can't be seen talking to you. I need to take Dick to his habitat, and then I'll be escorting you out." He stood up with the clingy, nervous mer in his arms.

 

"Oh, sure, that's fine, that's fine."

 

"Boose," Dick whispered, "he save me? He huht me?"

 

"I don't know, Dick," Bruce whispered back. "Even if he wants to help you, he might hurt you by accident. How did he get in?" Dick pointed at the inner fence. "He climbed over the fence?"

 

"Tea'cch me."

 

"That thing is a fence. 'Climb' means to pull yourself on something that is higher than you. Did he climb the fence?"

 

"Yes."

 

"What are you telling him?" the man asked keenly as they headed toward the mer habitat. "How come you're not signing?"

 

"We don't use sign language anymore, because we've found that it puts his development at risk," Bruce said mechanically. "I'm not telling him anything, I'm just, you know." He smiled awkwardly. "He's like my baby." He looked at Dick and tried to coo. "Aren't you, little guy? Aren't you my sweet, sweet baby? Yes you are. Yes you are."

 

The corner of Dick's mouth was quirking in amusement, and he crooned at Bruce in mer speech, _"The big baby wants to be loved? Ooohh, yes, I love you, big baby, your little baby lo~ves you."_

 

Now it was Bruce who was trying not to laugh. He loved this silly kid so _much_.

 

"Why does he wear clothes if he's just an animal?" the man wanted to know.

 

"Er...." Flustered by the stranger and the potential risks to both Dick and to his job, Bruce had completely forgotten to remove the mer's shirt. "He likes shiny things, so sometimes we give him shiny things like...this T-shirt to play with when he's not on display." He reached the employee entrance to the habitat and turned around. "You can't come in here."

 

The man raised his phone instead of answering, at the same moment Dick put his arms around Bruce's neck. Bruce recognized the precursor to having his photo taken, but didn't have time to actually react. When he saw the picture later, it was of him scowling hard as he clutched Dick protectively, the T-shirt-clad calf embracing him and kissing his jaw. The photo would soon go viral, partially as fodder for both the pro- and anti-captivity movements, but also just because the general public seemed to find it adorable.

 

For now, though, Bruce growled, "Stay back." He struggled to get the door unlocked with his arms full of mer, and it was Dick who actually pushed it open for him. As soon as Bruce stepped inside, he nudged the door shut with his butt. He got the calf in the water and then called security.

 

"Boose?"

 

"You're okay, chum. Everything's okay."

 

Dick touched his palm to Bruce's chest, feeling his elevated heart rate. "Boose scared."

 

"I-- No-- ...Maybe."

 

"Bad man?"

 

"I don't know. I don't _know_ , Dick. I'm pretty sure he wanted to help you, but people who try to help when they don't know what they're doing, sometimes they make it worse. I-- I was scared you might get hurt. I'm scared I might lose my job and be locked away from you. I--"

 

He heard the door start to open behind him. Without turning around, he made a sharp, businesslike gesture and commanded, "Arms up."

 

 _"No,"_ Dick replied in mer language, though more out of mischief than rebellion. He liked seeing Bruce squirm whenever the man was caught between his bosses' desires and his own.

 

"Arms up."

 

 _"I'm keeping this pretty thing~"_ Dick trilled, and dove backward into the water, splashing Bruce with his tail on the way.

 

"What happened?" Ryan demanded, and Bruce turned to see him standing there with Mark.

 

"He climbed the fence, then followed me when I tried to get Dick away from him. I called security as soon as my hands were free."

 

"What did you tell him? Did you tell him anything?" Ryan asked sharply.

 

"I was trying to get rid of him. I was distracted trying to keep Dick safe, but I did my best."

 

Bruce stood there and let Ryan rant at him for a while, then, when he realized the man was just getting angrier, started apologizing a lot, pretending to be upset and contrite. That did calm Ryan down, and the man coldly demanded that Bruce get Dick's shirt off, since clothing animals in the display habitats was forbidden.

 

"All right." Bruce turned to the water, where a distressed-looking Dick was watching from a distance. "Dick! Come!"

 

 _"Make bad him go away first!"_ Dick chittered in mer language.

 

Bruce, trying not to let on how much he understood, made a show of studying the situation, then told Ryan, "I think he's afraid of you. Could you move back, please?"

 

Ryan moved forward instead, right up to the edge of the pool. "DICK! COME!" he bellowed.

 

The calf gasped fearfully and dove.

 

"I'll get some fish," Mark offered.

 

"No," Ryan snapped. "It looks as though Richard has not earned his next meal. He goes on half-rations until he becomes more compliant."

 

Bruce felt a rush of indignant heat surge through his body, but managed to keep his mouth shut until Ryan had stormed out of the habitat. Then he sat down on the edge of the pool, trembling a little with suppressed rage.

 

"Bruce," Mark said quietly after a moment, "seriously. Did you tell him anything?"

 

"No," Bruce snapped.

 

"Did he see you talking to Dick?"

 

"Not really. I was...baby-talking at Dick for a minute, just...messing around, but no. I didn't sign or converse. I didn't cooperate with whoever that was, either. You can check the cameras."

 

Dick slowly approached, looking worried. _"Safe?"_ he chirped anxiously, _"Not-safe?"_

 

Bruce sighed and said wearily, "Arms up."

 

_"I want to keep it!"_

 

Bruce shifted his shoulders a bit to block his hands from Mark and signed as small as he could, _"Later."_ He was pretty sure Mark wouldn't turn him in for breaking the rules as long as he wasn't actually hurting anything, but he knew that betrayals sometimes happened and didn't want to risk it.

 

 _"I want to keep it,"_ Dick pouted, but finally raised his arms and allowed the shirt to be pulled off.

 

"Dickie," Mark murmured, kneeling and reaching out slowly. Dick shied away and grasped Bruce's pant leg, but allowed Mark's fingers to run through his hair and scratch gently at his scalp as if he was a kitten. "We care about you. We just want to keep you safe, okay?"

 

Dick patted his own chest and looked indignant.

 

"I know you like your T-shirts, buddy, but it's showtime now. You can have it back tonight, all right?"

 

Dick squeaked plaintively and opened his mouth to ask for food.

 

Mark winced. "Sorry, kiddo. I mean--" He looked at Dick for a long moment. "...Kiddo." He slowly caressed the calf's hair again, staring at him. Dick stared back with his best Puppy Eyes, probably not sure what was expected of him but knowing he couldn't go wrong with his signature heart-melting expression. "There was no reason to cut back his food," Mark suddenly hissed, and stormed out.

 

 _"He mad at me?"_ Dick signed anxiously.

 

"He is guilty, and mad at himself," Bruce explained. "Go swim; I have to play tour guide now."

_"Everyone look at small pretty prisoner,"_ Dick signed sourly.

 

Bruce sighed deeply and kissed the top of his head, then headed out to his assignment.

 

TBC

 

A/N: While doing research for this story, I was struck by strong similarities to past research I've done. In a lot of ways, SeaWorld functions _exactly_ like a cult. They're all about control, incredible deception of both outsiders and "the faithful," secrecy and cover-ups, manipulation, and strong potential for abuse woven into the foundation. Even the behavior of the adherents is the same; some go through a gradual, emotionally painful awakening process and eventually "convert," and if they try to expose all the falsehood and abuse, the organization retaliates with blatant lies and efforts to silence and discredit them. Other adherents might feel uneasy at some point, but then make the decision to bury that uneasiness and give themselves over in complete loyalty to the authoritative body. It's insane how similar SeaWorld's culture is to Scientology, Warren Jeffs's polygamist FLDS cult, etc.


	7. Chapter 7 - Happy Ninth

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter** **7** **\- Happy Ninth (rough draft 2)**

 

As months passed, there was some shuffling around with various animals moved in and out of Dick's habitat and vice versa.

 

There was a particular male dolphin the mer hated, and a female he loved; he got along very well with all the seals, sea lions, and most of the otters. He really liked ABAZ's walrus but the feeling was not mutual, and Dick spent too much of his time in that animal's habitat teasing the creature until Bruce and Mark were successful in convincing management to move the mer back out.

 

There was talk of trying Dick with the orcas even though the calf was frightened of both of them, but fortunately, the idea was nipped in the bud when the female orca acted aggressively toward Dick from the other side of a gate. Dick found the octopuses fascinating, but then refused to go anywhere near them when he woke up from a nap nearly suffocating because one had come to rest on his face.

 

A simple more-or-less educational performance was designed around him, mostly acting out simple skits rather than actual tricks, but he was so uncooperative, responding to every command with loud screeching or the exact opposite of the requested behavior, that management was forced to give up. Dick was deprived of food for two straight days after that, subsisting entirely on the scraps Bruce and the other trainers managed to slip to him.

 

When Alfred was finally successful in dragging his employers away from their work long enough for them to have a vacation, the three of them came to ABAZ to visit their son and finally meet in person the little mer they'd heard so much about and occasionally vidchatted with. They'd taken advantage of their wealth to book two hours of a private 'performance,' which in practice it was just hanging out.

 

"Dickie," Bruce said, crouching by the pool with his family a few feet away, "come say hello to my mother and father and Alfred."

 

Dick shyly edged up on Bruce's far side and grasped his sleeve, but he was smiling at the familiar faces. "Mahta...Tomma...Ahfed...."

 

"That's right, this is Martha and Thomas and Alfred."

 

"Hello, little one," Martha cooed. "I'm so happy to meet you face to face!"

 

"Dick, can you say hi?" Bruce prompted, and the calf signed a greeting. "Very good. Now, Dick--" He was interrupted by the mer pulling hard on him. He nearly lost his balance and fell in the pool; by the time he recovered, Dick had hauled himself onto Bruce's back and was peering curiously over the man's shoulder. Bruce awkwardly did his best to support the calf's tail and butt, and stood up with Dick riding piggyback. Dick chittered with interest, obviously eager to meet the visitors even though he was wary enough to use his caretaker as a human shield. "You can come closer," Bruce told his parents, "just reach very slowly if you want to touch him."

 

Dick basked in the attention, soaking up the praise and compliments and warily accepting caresses and hair ruffles. Bruce interpreted whenever he spoke mer language or ASL, though the calf grew more confident speaking English when he realized that was the only way to talk to his visitors directly.

 

"Boose is...my good-- my good thing, I like him. Love my good Bruce," he murmured, and kissed Bruce's slightly blushing cheek.

 

"Glad to hear it, my boy," Thomas said, gently patting his shoulder. "We love Bruce very much, too."

 

"We're so glad he has you to dote on, sweetheart," Martha added. "You've been very good for him. We'd been worried before."

 

That was the first Bruce had heard of it. "What? Why?"

 

"Well, you know, dear, you don't have very many friends--"

 

"I have friends!"

 

"And when was the last time you spoke to Harvey, or Tommy Elliot, or anyone else you knew from your school days, for that matter?" Thomas challenged.

 

"I-- I've been busy...."

 

"And you left school, honey! You were so _close_ to getting your teaching certification, but then you changed your mind?!"

 

"I just-- The student teaching was so-- I wanted the _teaching_ part, the kids, but I hadn't realize how much interference comes from-- Dick, don't do that, it's not polite." He shifted so that Dick's reaching hand was pulled away from Alfred's head, and the calf screeched briefly in protest.

 

"An equal exchange of familiarity seems fair," Alfred pointed out, and bent his head down a little. Bruce, realizing that humans did seem to think they were entitled to handle the mer's body without permission, didn't move this time, and Dick cooed with interest as he patted the butler's scalp and played with the carefully styled combover.

 

"I'm sorry your hair's getting messed up, Alfred."

 

"Quite all right, my dear boy." Although the butler's expression was well-schooled, there was a softness in his eyes as he watched the little mer.

 

The rest of the session consisted of Bruce's family feeding Dick and playing with him, throwing balls for him to fetch and pushing him on his scooter board. Dick got it into his head at one point to show off his T-shirts, and spent a full half hour modeling all his clothes for them.

 

"He is _adorable_!" Martha laughed. "He has so many!"

 

"I wonder if he's an anomaly or if it's a species-wide preference," Thomas mused. "Mer would be the only animals we know of to prefer clothing, if that was the case."

 

"It puts the thought into one's mind that perhaps mer ought to be classified as something other than animal," Alfred murmured.

 

o.o.o

 

Ryan eventually found out about Bruce's extreme 'overtime' and threatened to fire him again, forbidding Bruce from setting foot in employee areas outside his official work hours. The director also kept trying to reduce Bruce's schedule to as few hours a week as he could, but Mark usually found ways of finding work for Bruce to do. Most of it wasn't even busywork, since Bruce had a natural inclination for learning random things and had a wide variety of skills.

 

It did mean more time away from Dick, though, and the mer threw fits. He even started flinging himself into other animals' habitats every time he caught a glimpse of Bruce in the distance. This resulted in injuries so many times that the trainers all protested en masse, and between them and zoo visitors constantly asking after the 'Mermaid Man,' Bruce was finally reinstated as Dick's primary caretaker.

 

The calf, as usual after separations from his favorite person, grew extra-clingy. Since Bruce couldn't leave the mer's habitat, Mark arranged for VIP guests to be brought in for closeup petting and photo sessions, which Dick grudgingly endured because it meant he didn't have to let go of Bruce.

 

Dick had his ninth birthday.

 

Bruce wanted to make sure the calf wouldn't have a bad reaction, so a few days before the planned celebration, he started showing Dick videos of human children on their birthdays.

 

_"Happy Birthday to you...Happy Birthday to you...!"_

 

Dick stared, baffled, as the song finally came to a close and the little girl on the screen eagerly blew out the candles. _"Light gone!"_

 

"Yes. Those are candles, sticks with small flames at the top. These particular candles are to celebrate her birthday, because everyone is happy that she has...survived another year of life." It sounded a bit sobering when stripped to its bare essentials.

 

_"Happy people."_

 

"Yes. Let's watch another one."

 

Dick soon got bored of that and, expert at tapping through YouTube by now, accessed his favorite playlist, which consisted of various circus videos. _"Pretty shiny,"_ he cooed with both his hands and in mer language as he watched aerialists in colorful sequined costumes flinging themselves around as if their feats were effortless. That particular video had no sound, but the performers' athleticism and beauty still shone.

 

 _"He flies through the air with the greatest of ease,"_ Bruce sang softly. He was very self-conscious about singing in public - or for anyone, really, who wasn't his parents or Alfred - but he felt safe singing for Dick. The mer leaned his head against Bruce's chest as he listened. _"The daring young man on the flying trapeze...."_

 

The day of Dick's birthday, the calf warily poked his eyes out of the water to watch Bruce, Amanda, Mark, and a few others enter the pool area, singing as they carried a fish-based cake.

 

_"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Dickie...!"_

 

Dick suddenly shot to the edge of the pool and lifted himself up as high as he could, his body hanging from the support of his straight arms and braced hands. His eyes were wide in amazement.

 

_"...Happy Birthday to you~!"_

 

They set the cake on the ground in front of him, calling out congratulations and encouragements. "Happy Birthday, Dickie!"

 

"This is for you!"

 

"It's your birthday, buddy! You're nine years old today!"

 

Dick dropped back into the pool with a splash and grunted urgently, flapping his hands.

 

Bruce eyed his coworkers. "He wants to sign."

 

"Oh, no one's going to tattle on you guys, Bruce," Miki said, and Mark nodded.

 

 _"Safe,"_ Bruce signed to the calf.

 

_"Happy Birthday, blow fire, CAKE!"_

 

"Yes. Today is _your_ birthday, so this is _your_ cake and _your_ number 9 candle," Bruce confirmed, gesturing at the treat with its lit numeral candle. "Do you remember how we practiced blowing, Dickie?" He demonstrated, exhaling a controlled breath.

 

"Eee!" Dick eagerly blew at the candle, not quite managing to snuff the flame, then suddenly bit it. All the humans yelped in alarm, but the flame was small and Dick's natural moisture and protections shielded his mouth for the instant it took to extinguish the fire. He and Bruce grappled with the candle for a moment - Dick won and flung the candle across the pool. Screeching in excitement, he fetched and hurled the candle twice more in succession before throwing it out of the pool and rushing back to his cake.

 

_"Cake!!"_

 

"That's right, Dickie. And since this is a mer-safe cake and is somewhat disgusting for humans, you get it all to yourself."

 

"Eeeee~!"

 

They let him stuff his face, and after Amanda passed out paper party hats and made even the most reluctant people put them on, Dick readily consented to having a birthday crown set on his head.

 

Then it was time for presents. Dick got two more T-shirts and several more toys; Bruce, who had gotten him a cell phone but was afraid to give it to him until they were alone, gave him a sparkly key chain as a decoy while the other humans were present. Numerous photos and videos were taken during the entire affair.

 

A trainer named Lenny, who adored seals, liked sea lions and otters, and couldn't care less about any other animal in the park but admired the bond Bruce and Dick had, suddenly rushed into the enclosure. "Ryan's coming!"

 

There was a flurry of activity as people grabbed the hats and gifts and the remains of the cake and shoved them into bags; Bruce ran to scoop up the candle and stuff it in his pocket. Dick, frightened, dove deep into the pool, and a semblance of order had just barely been established when Ryan came striding in. "Why are none of you at your stations?" he demanded.

 

"It's a milestone day, we need to take stats," Mark said.

 

"Dick, come," Bruce called as he slapped the water, carefully not looking at Ryan and trying to calm his elevated heartbeat.

 

When it became obvious the mer was not going to obey, Bruce took a deep breath and dropped into the pool.

 

 _"Scared!"_ Dick signed immediately from his corner.

 

 _"Safe. Pretending for Scary Face,"_ Bruce replied, using the calf's sign-name for Ryan. _"Please come. You are more safe if you come, you are less safe if you hide."_

_"Scared!"_ Dick signed again, but slowly approached. Bruce surfaced and handed the calf up to Mark and the others. Dick whimpered, staring at Ryan as he was laid on a scale and measured and examined, but Ryan, although watching coldly, said and did nothing. The man finally left, and everyone relaxed. "I'm sorry, Dick," Bruce started to say, and the calf threw himself into Bruce's arms. "It's okay. It's okay, chum, you're safe. No one's going to hurt you."

 

The others cooed at the calf. They showed him the bagful of presents that would stay in the office, gave him the last of the cake, and gingerly patted his tail when he cringed away from their attempts at reassuring caresses.

 

"We love you, Dickie," Amanda said. "We have to go back to work now, and I'm sorry Ryan cut your party short, but we just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, okay?"

 

"Happy Bir( _click_ )day, Dickie," Dick whispered, and Bruce kissed the top of his head.

 

That night, when they were alone, Bruce brought out the waterproof and heavily child-locked new phone. Dick was delighted, and Bruce fell asleep to the sound of "Happy Birthday to You" playing tinnily beside him.

 

TBC

 

A/N: Both of the songs used in this chapter are traditional ones in the public domain. (At least, the birthday song is; couldn't find confirmation for the trapeze song, but it was written in the 19th century, so I assume it's public domain by now.)

 

There are recipes online for how to make birthday cakes that are safe for your cat or dog to eat. XD (It should go without saying, but don't ever feed them human cake!)


	8. Chapter 8 - Fend For Yourself

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter** **8** **\- Fend For Yourself (rough draft 2)**

 

When Dick was eleven years old, anti-cap activists finally won a major victory: it became illegal to hold mer in captivity for entertainment or public display.

 

After that came a stressful eight months of ABAZ trying to sell Dick to a research laboratory and refusing to sell him to the Wayne family, all accompanied by very mixed, passionate, and controversial media coverage and public reactions. Although nothing came of it either way except in Kentucky (which had a mer population of 0), several state legislatures discussed a proposal to add mer to their lists of banned exotic pets. The Waynes repeatedly insisted that they wanted Dick as a child, not a pet, and lent their weight to the weak but slowly growing movement to legally recategorize mer as people rather than animals.

 

 _"This sort of...hits home for me,"_ a reporter named Clark Kent admitted to Bruce near the tail end of a phone interview. _"One of my colleagues and I have been looking into this whole 'metahuman' phenomenon, and the practice of denying sentient beings basic rights or even legal personhood just because they aren't...normal humans...."_ He exhaled. _"I can really sympathize with Dickie."_

"I appreciate you helping to give Dick a voice."

 

When Dick was twelve, ABAZ, finding itself on attack from all sides, abruptly announced their plans to release the mer into the wild.

 

Bruce, sitting there in the meeting when the announcement was first made to the employees, was too shocked to process for a minute. Then he had too many questions to figure out which one to ask first.

 

Luckily, he wasn't the only one with questions. "I presume we're going to be spending the next year or so training him how to fend for himself?" Mark spoke up, face expressionless.

 

"Oh, there's no need for _that_!" Judy said brightly.

 

"We don't have a year," Ryan stated, voice flat. "We start paying fines if Dick is still in our possession after July 4th."

 

"That's less than a month from now!" Amanda gasped.

 

"He's a _calf_ ," Bruce managed to say. "Still a child; he was _born_ in captivity. He doesn't know the first thing about--"

 

Judy spoke over him. "The merman's natural instincts will come to the forefront once he's placed back in his home waters. We're going to need everyone's help to promote the event and get Dickie ready for his big day."

 

Bruce was torn between desperately needing to stay and get all the information he could, or storming out before he punched somebody. He quickly decided that there would be no worthwhile good news, so he started coughing hard and left the room, presumably to get a drink of water. Instead, he headed straight to Dick's habitat.

 

The calf was swimming aimlessly, bored, but put on a burst of speed and popped out of the water as soon as he saw his favorite person. "B!"

 

"Hey, Dickie," Bruce murmured, surprised that he could hear in his own voice how emotionally weary he was.

 

 _"You okay?"_ Dick asked in alarm, hauling himself out of the water as Bruce knelt to meet him.

 

"Dick...I have good news and bad news."

 

The mer cocked his head.

 

"The good news is...they're setting you free. They're sending you to the ocean."

 

Dick went stock-still, staring.

 

"The bad news is that they're doing this in just a few weeks, so we'll barely have any time to teach you how to catch your own fish, and how to defend yourself.... Things to avoid or be wary of, behavior of other animals to read, oh God...." He rubbed a hand over his face, his mind whirling with mental images of his precious boy succumbing to pollution, getting eaten by sharks, caught by unscrupulous humans, lost in the depths with no knowledge of how to find food if it was scarce and no companionship whatsoever....

 

"B," Dick whispered, setting a hand on his chest.

 

Bruce raised his head. "Did your parents ever tell you anything about the ocean?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Enough that you think you could survive there on your own?"

 

_"Find my pod."_

 

"You were born in captivity, you don't have a pod to go back to. Do you mean your mother's pod or your father's pod?"

 

 _"...Yes,"_ Dick signed, less certainly this time.

 

"Do you know how to find your mother's pod or your father's pod?"

 

After a nonplussed moment, Dick glared. _"I will go home to the ocean."_

 

"Dick," Bruce said, standing up, "I am going to fetch some live fish and put them in your pool, so show me whether or not you can catch them."

 

It took all day. _All day_. They started with three fish; Dick at first spooked away from them, having never been in the same pool as live fish before because management had feared he would eat any he was put on display with. Dick quickly got over his nervousness and tried to examine the fish, but they always rushed away from him. He spent nearly two hours chasing the fish around the pool, trying and failing to even get a good look at them.

 

He finally got the idea to keep very still, and after another hour, the fish stopped fleeing from him. They never came very close, but he was at least able to watch them as he drifted nearly motionless.

 

Bruce tried putting him in a smaller pool with the fish, and after some lengthy, determined swimming, he finally managed to catch one. It instantly slipped out of his hands. It wasn't until many catches later that he was successfully able to catch a fish and keep hold of it with his fangs. Drifting there with the struggling fish held tightly in his teeth and hands, Dick eyed Bruce a little frantically as if asking what to do next.

 

"Rip!" Bruce called, miming it.

 

Dick tore a large chunk of flesh out of the fish. The creature drifted free, struggling feebly as it died. Dick slowly chewed, watching the trail of blood with wide eyes. He reached for the fish again, but made a face and pushed it away before taking another bite. _"Yuck."_

 

Bruce resisted the urge to facepalm. He wish he knew how wild mer ate their fish. _"Why is it yucky?"_ he signed through the tank wall.

 

_"Bones and blood!"_

_"You've eaten flesh off of fish bones before!"_

_"It's floppy!"_ Dick convulsed for a moment to demonstrate.

 

_"Kill it first before you eat it."_

 

Dick was very tired by then, so instead of making him hunt and catch a new fish, Bruce had him practice with one of the usual frozen ones. "When you catch it, find a rock or something to bash its head against. ...You can use the side of the pool for now, but you will not have a pool in the ocean. You need to learn how to find tools. Maybe even carry tools, and how to make or acquire something to carry them in."

 

 _"This is hard!"_ Dick complained. _"I want to go home!"_

 

"Dick, making the ocean your home will be VERY hard, and you have very little time to learn and practice."

 

As the weeks flew by, Bruce was vaguely aware of the media storm in the outside world concerning the upcoming release, and he talked to his parents frequently since they'd long been financially involved in matters relating to Dick, but most of his focus was on the mer.

 

One or two marine biologists employed by the zoo had been assigned to train Dick for life in the wild, but they didn't spend as much time with the mer as Bruce did, and he felt like they lacked motivation. Bruce didn't have much idea what he was doing, but he researched and did his best to teach Dick.

 

"What's this?" he quizzed, presenting an unlabeled substance.

 

"Pe'toleum," Dick sighed. _"It's bad and I'll swim away."_

 

"Good. What's this?"

 

_"Seaweed. Safe but don't get tangled."_

 

"Good. What's this...?"

 

o.o.o

 

The day of the release, Dick was transported to the boat in a brightly-labeled truck along a route filled with the press, fans, activists, and others. When he was removed from the truck, several people in the crowd hurled GPS tags in protest of ABAZ's decision to release the mer without one (ostensibly to give Dick the most natural experience possible, but really because the poorly-trained, underage calf was likely to die quickly, and they didn't want an easy way for people to find out).

 

Bruce carried Dick the short way from the truck to the small tank on the boat where the mer sat unhappily, surrounded by caretakers, VIP guests, and two carefully-selected reporters. He clung to Bruce and ignored everyone else, craning to see the ocean past the distant railings.

 

 _"Ocean?"_ he rumbled in mer language, _"That's the ocean???"_

 

Bruce vocalized quietly in the same language, _"Hush, soon; not safe now."_ Dick didn't answer, instead hauling himself a little farther up Bruce's arm to stare over the man's shoulder. Then he glared in annoyance at one of the VIPs, a celebrity who had started patronizingly chittering random dolphin-like sounds at him. Bruce, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he could communicate with the mer in several languages, forced himself to stay quiet.

 

The release itself wasn't elaborate, though no doubt video editing, music, and narration would dress it up a lot. Dick was laid in a sling and lowered into the water, Bruce lying on the deck to keep hold of his hand until they were forced apart. Dick started squirming, trying to get out, and immediately shot away as soon as he was freed. He paused for a long time, looking around both above and below the water. He spent another while swimming uncertainly around the boat.

 

"B!" he started calling, "Come here! Come here!"

 

Bruce, practically glued to the railing, was not allowed to answer, and tears smarted his eyes every time the little mer stopped and begged for reassurance. He could hear Judy in the background, ordering the cameramen to edit out any footage of the mer speaking human language. The reporters occasionally asked Bruce questions, but his answers were brusque and unhelpful, so they finally gave up.

 

The boat and the two remaining news crafts began heading back to shore around sunset. Dick followed behind them for a while, calling and then screaming for Bruce, but the captain was ordered to increase speed and they eventually left the calf behind. Bruce was shaking.

 

TBC

 

A/N: SeaWorld keeps going on about how many marine animals they rescue, which, okay, great, but they don't tag any of those rescued animals (unless they changed their policy in the last few years), which means no one has any idea how successful those animals are upon their release. It gives the strong impression that they (the company, I mean; not the individual employees who often do have their heart in the right place when they volunteer) sponsor the rescues primarily as a charity work smokescreen rather than genuine interest in ocean life.

 

When I started writing this fic, my only knowledge about marine mammal parks was basically from _Free Willy_ , childhood visits to SeaWorld, and a nonfiction book I read a while ago about orcas in captivity. I hadn't intended to do deliberate research for this fic, but ended up reading up on it after all. XD Along with many online articles, I would also recommend the following books:

 

 _Death at SeaWorld_ by David Kirby. This is the book I read years ago; it's a very thorough and well-researched account of orcas in captivity compared with orcas in the wild.

 

 _Beneath the Surface_ by John Hargrove. Memoir by a former SeaWorld trainer who eventually left the company and, despite how much he adored working with the orcas, is now against holding them in captivity.

 

 _Blackfish_ , a very influential documentary about orcas in captivity, using the death of Dawn Brancheau as a focal point.

 

 _Keiko: The Untold Story of the Star of Free Willy_. Documentary that focuses specifically on Keiko, the orca who played Willy and was also pretty much the only captive orca who was released back into the wild. (Although he never did find his family or re-integrate with wild orcas, he did learn how to find his own food, was eventually permitted to roam wherever he pleased, and happily lived the last five years of his life in natural waters.)

 

 _Free Willy_. Although this is a fictional movie, it had a very strong impact on the captive orca issue in real life and made quite a lot of people interested in the subject.


	9. Chapter 9 - Seeking Shelter

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 9 - Seeking Shelter (rough draft 2)**

 

The minute they reached land, Bruce marched off the boat, silently pushing past everyone who tried to speak to him. He got into Amanda's car and she drove him up the road until they could be reasonably sure they hadn't been followed, then carefully doubled back to get to the marina where Bruce had already had his yacht sent up. Since he was taking a leave of absence and would probably quit working at ABAZ soon, he bid Amanda an emotional goodbye and sailed out into the dark sea.

 

He spent three days drifting around the area where he'd last seen Dick, a hydrophone in the water constantly playing the mer's favorite music. Bruce spent hours prowling around the boat or working intently on his computer, remembering to eat only because Alfred had taken to calling him regularly to remind him.

 

It was just past 7:00 p.m. on the fourth evening when Bruce heard a sound that made his heart wrench.

 

"...B...B...!"

 

He ran to the lower deck. He was incredibly happy and relieved to see his boy, but horrified at the sight of the half-healed scratches on the mer's shoulders and neck. "Dickie!" The deck on that part of the boat was too high above the water for him to reach. "Dick, go down that way! Over there, Dick; I can't reach you here!"

 

He ran, hearing Dick sob in devastation behind him. "DICKIE! HERE!" he screamed, yanking the gate open. "I'M RIGHT HERE, DICKIE, SWIM TO ME! SWIM TO ME, CHUM, I'M RIGHT HERE!"

 

His heart pounded because it took longer than it should have, but Dick finally came slowly approaching. Bruce stretched out his arm as far as he could, Dick tentatively reached, and as soon as their fingers touched, Bruce seized the boy's hand, dragged him close, and hauled him onto the deck and into his arms.

 

Dick wept and shivered, and Bruce looked in horror at the bedraggled and missing scales on the child's tail, the cuts on his back, and the way his ribs showed deeply through his thin skin. Even the mer's slimy protective layer seemed to be more dry than usual; flakes would soon form on any unsubmerged flesh. "My God, Dickie, oh my God, here, let's get you to, come on, I'm here, Dickie, I'm here, hey, ssshh, it's all right...."

 

Once Dick was lying exhausted in a tub of saltwater, he continued to keen softly and refused to let go of Bruce. "Come on, chum, I've got to get you something to eat, you're skin and bone." He eventually had to pull the boy out of the tub, make a sling for him out of an oiled bedsheet, carry him on his back to the cold storage room, take him back to the tub, and hold the fish to his lips.

 

Dick nibbled, sniffling and gripping Bruce's sleeve. "It's okay, Dickie. Everything's okay now. No more zoo, no more cameras, no more effing bosses telling us what we're not allowed to do, now it's just you and me. Just you and me, chum; you're safe. You're safe, Dickie."

 

Dick stared at him with his liquid sapphire eyes and continued to nibble listlessly. He was still clutching Bruce tightly when he fell asleep.

 

o.o.o

 

The mer remained mute in all three languages for a day and a half. Bruce got closer to the mainland but then anchored offshore, hoping that dedicating himself to caring for the child would help Dick recover enough to give his input on any plans. Bruce diligently fed him, treated his wounds, and spent hours simply cuddling with him on the deck, where Dick lay in his arms and gazed out at the water.

 

At last, Dick tugged on Bruce's shirt and signed, _"Hurt. Sad. Angry."_

 

"I'm so sorry, chum. I'm so sorry they threw you in the deep end before you were ready."

 

_"Hungry. Very hungry; rocks hurt me, animals hurt me, mer hurt me, ocean hurt me, everyone hurts me, alone and scared and hungry and hurt, where is B, where is B...?!"_

Tears were stinging Bruce's eyes as he hugged his child, and Dick was trembling as he hid his face in Bruce's shirt and clutched him tight.

 

A little later, when they had both calmed down and were eating, Bruce said, "Dick, we can't stay here forever. I need to go to Mother and Father's house, and then I want to take you to our private island. We'll be safe there, Dick, we can live there forever if you want, we'll be right by the ocean but there's a house, too. What do you think?"

 

Dick started to cry.

 

"Dick?! What is it, what's wrong?"

 

_"Don't leave me...."_

 

"Never, Dickie, I will never leave you again."

 

_"Little mer in B's cage, I will die."_

 

"Dickie...Dickie, chum, there are no more cages, you're free, you're safe now, I will never let anyone hurt you again...."

 

Dick soon grew listless and unresponsive. He didn't react when Bruce put him in a hooded sweater and big sunglasses and gloves, wrapping his tail in oiled plastic and then bundling him in a wheelchair with blankets.

 

"Dickie, we need to practice. You have to pretend to be human, all right? Don't look at anyone or speak to anyone or touch anyone. We need to buy some supplies and then drive to my parents' home, do you understand?"

 

There was no response at first, but Dick started to look around when Bruce paid one of the marina workers to drive them to the nearest car rental agency.

 

 _"B, not the bad place! Not the bad place!"_ Dick cried in mer language.

 

 _"Human language only!"_ Bruce signed hastily, glancing at the curious driver. "Hah, you sound just like a dolphin, Dickie! He really loves whales and dolphins," he chatted to the driver.

 

 _"Scary Face will punish fish who says human words,"_ Dick signed hesitantly.

 

_"Scary Face is not here. We are pretending! Pretend to be human. The people here do not know you're a mer."_

 

"My kid loves dolphins, too," the driver remarked. "Sails out to watch 'em all the time; why, last weekend, she saw a little baby, showed us the video...."

 

Bruce smiled and nodded, patting Dick to soothe him and hopefully keep him quiet.

 

Renting a car wasn't difficult. Bruce had a harder time keeping Dick from trying to touch and play with everything he could get his hands on.

 

"Oh, he can keep that," the agent chuckled when Bruce attempted to wrestle a magazine out of Dick's grip. "We replace 'em all the time, anyway."

 

Dick pulled off his sunglasses to get a better look at the colors; Bruce hastily pushed them back on. "Remember we have to protect your eyes, chum," he said desperately, angling himself away from the agent to sign, _"Take sunglasses off in the car; keep them on when people are watching!"_

 

"P'etty," Dick remarked, peering at a full-page ad featuring a beautiful woman.

 

Bruce was relieved when they were closed into the privacy of their own car. Dick did _not_ like being separated from his favorite person, even by a few inches: he kept loudly vocalizing and grabbing at the back of Bruce's neck. Bruce had to pull over and move the boy into the front passenger seat, where Dick, happier now, proceeded to make a mess of his disguise.

 

"All right, but you're going to have to put everything back on again when we get to the hotel."

 

It turned out to be a motel, since it occurred to Bruce that a cheaper place would probably be less scrutinizing than the upscale establishments he was used to.

 

He bundled the mer back into his getup and the wheelchair, checked in at the front desk without incident, and was thankfully not followed by any bellhops (he wasn't sure the place even employed a bellhop) when he took his fish child and their luggage down the outdoor corridor to their room. He had specifically requested one out of sight of the pool, since Dick would not be able to swim in his disguise and Bruce didn't want to have to deny him. "Well, this is it."

 

Dick looked warily around the room. Bruce wheeled him to the bathroom and cleaned the tub with vinegar, filled it up, dumped a ton of salt into it, then extracted the boy from his disguise and set him into the water.

 

Dick looked at him. His _"Are you kidding me?"_ expression needed no translation.

 

"I know it is very small and cramped, Dick, but we are traveling in secret, so this is the best I can do right now. There is a much bigger pool at my parents' house, and then when we go to the beach house, it will have its own pool and also the ocean."

 

Dick vocalized and thrashed to express his displeasure, soaking the tiny bathroom in less than a minute. Bruce sighed deeply and gathered towels in readiness to mop up.

 

Once Dick had finished his tantrum and Bruce had cleaned up, they ate a silent meal together, then watched the Disney animated version of _The Little Mermaid_ on Bruce's phone. The mer trilled curiously and pulled the device closer. _"Pretty red hair mer! I like it!"_

 

"You like redheads, huh," Bruce remarked.

 

When Dick dozed off in the tub, Bruce made a nest for himself out of bedding on the thin carpet just outside the bathroom. He set his alarm for an early start time and went to sleep.

 

o.o.o

 

In the morning, Bruce debated whether it was worth trying to take a shower when he knew Dick would not want to be separated from him. The last time he had showered had been on the boat while Dick had been taking a nap, so he felt pretty grungy by now.

 

He set the mer on the blanket nest with a wet towel over his tail and made sure he had a phone to keep him occupied, but Dick still didn't like being separated from his human even by a thin shower curtain. He screeched and whined and then crawled over to start pulling at the curtain. Bruce washed as quickly as he could and shut the water off at the same moment the entire curtain rod came down.

 

Dick stared in shock, and Bruce whirled away, groping for a towel.

 

"............B make babies???" Dick asked in total bewilderment.

 

"No, I-- We don't-- It's not the same--" Bruce was so not ready to have The Talk with his fish child right now. "Humans have to hide our genitals with clothes," was the best he could manage, wrapping the towel around his waist.

 

"What is 'gettals'??"

 

"I-- Our-- baby-making things. Mer can hide them in their flesh, but humans can't, so we wear clothes."

 

Dick looked down at himself and started poking at his own nearly-invisible slit. Bruce was even less ready for that than for The Talk, so he scooped the boy into his arms and said wildly, "I think it's time for breakfast!"

 

"Fooood~!" Dick cheered, thankfully distracted.

 

TBC

 

A/N: Hydrophones are usually used for listening and recording sound underwater rather than projecting it, but apparently a few can project, and also, this is Comic Book World with its abundance of plot-convenient technology, so. X''D

 

I picked up from my research that the tanks used to hold captive orcas have chlorine in them like human swimming pools do. Too much chlorine will make their skin peel off and cause (hopefully temporary) blindness (as happened to a group of orcas one time when a piece of equipment malfunctioned overnight...), and obviously it's not a factor in natural ocean water, but apparently they do all right with reasonable amounts. Then there was the whale Keiko, who spent years swimming in poorly-filtered (meaning he was sometimes swimming in his own waste) tap water and truckloads of table salt; it was also far too warm. I don't know exactly which factor it was that caused his unsightly skin condition (you can see it clearly in the movie _Free Willy_ , particularly at the base of his pectoral fins), or if it was all of the above, but although it was detrimental to his health and would have killed him eventually if the film crew hadn't prompted an improvement in his environment, he did at least survive that low quality pool water for several years.

Anyway, my point is that I figured Dick would do all right with slapdash saltwater if there was nothing better available.


	10. Chapter 10 - Safe Haven

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 10 - Safe Haven (rough draft 2)**

 

It was late at night when Bruce pulled into the garage of Wayne Manor, and Dick was fast asleep in the passenger seat. By the time Bruce had pulled the little mer out of the car and carried him to the door to the house, it was open and his parents were waiting for him, with Alfred just behind them.

 

 _"Hi!"_ Martha mouthed, her face alight.

 

Bruce smiled in response. His parents carefully hugged him, trying not to wake Dick, but the boy stirred anyway. He peered blearily at the new adults and then smiled, sleepily stretching out his arm. Martha grasped his hand and Thomas ruffled his hair, then Dick, without having moved his head away from Bruce's shoulder, closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

 

"How was the trip?" Thomas asked quietly as they moved to the indoor pool on the other side of the house.

 

"A little stressful, but we made it," Bruce murmured back. "I kept him bundled up and in a wheelchair. I don't think anyone realized he's not human."

 

"We sent all the servants on holiday, so it's just us here for a while," Martha explained. She chuckled a little. "They're going to be so angry about the pool when they come back and have to clean it!"

 

"Tell them you wanted to try making your own float experience," Bruce suggested, hoping that would be enough to mislead anyone about why their masters had decided to fill their swimming pool with salt.

 

"Master Bruce, what did you have in mind for your sleeping arrangements?" Alfred asked.

 

"I'm used to sleeping on concrete floors with him, so having a cot seems like a luxury to me now."

 

The butler nodded and went off, presumably to procure one.

 

Bruce paused only to step out of his shoes before descending the steps into the pool. At the touch of the water, Dick stirred again, then abruptly sat up. He flopped out of Bruce's arms and zoomed around the pool a few times, then breached repeatedly, screeching in pleasure and relief.

 

"He's tired of bathtubs," Bruce explained, he and his parents all cringing away from the splashing.

 

 _"Waterrrrr!"_ the mer signed enthusiastically. "Water! Good! GOOD!!"

 

Bruce got back out of the pool and changed from his wet clothes into a bathrobe. Exhausted, he fell onto the cot the moment Alfred set it up and was asleep before the butler even started laying blankets over him.

 

Thomas and Martha and even Alfred played with Dick for a while until the boy's excitement finally abated. They tried introducing him to the dog - Ace was a little too frantically excited at first and the mer was clearly alarmed, but after several minutes of curious watching and intense sniffing on both sides, Ace finally gave the mer's hand a cautious little lick.

 

Dick giggled and gingerly fingered the dog's ear. Ace accepted some petting, but then got wriggly and nippy again, so Thomas went to shut him away in the master suite. Dick, meanwhile, crawled to Bruce's cot, hauling himself onto it with little trouble. He nestled close, and Bruce, still asleep, slid an arm over him.

 

 _"My favorite thing, I love him,"_ Dick signed, then closed his eyes in contentment.

 

Martha took a photo, Alfred and Thomas wrapped the mer's tail and changed the bedding, then the three of them simply stood there for a while, affectionately watching their boys sleep. They finally slipped away to their own beds, and the manor was comfortably silent until morning.

 

o.o.o

 

Much of the next day was spent packing. Alfred patiently guided his masters, who had very little experience doing without servants, and Dick refused to stay in the pool when he realized Bruce couldn't stay with him. He kept getting out and crawling after his human, no matter how much Bruce tried to reassure him, so they brought the wheelchair back. Dick followed Bruce around and wheedled unsuccessfully for Bruce to play with him.

 

"Dickie, we'll have all the time in the world to play at the beach house, but right now we need to pack. The sooner we're finished packing, the sooner we can leave to our new home."

 

It was late afternoon when they were finally ready to go. Thomas, Martha, and Alfred's luggage took up the bulk of the room in both of the vehicles; even though they weren't planning to stay at the beach house for more than a few months, their ideas of what they would need were much more expansive than Bruce's, who'd gotten used to spartan living at ABAZ. Bruce, in fact, barely brought anything other than equipment for Dick's care.

 

The journey was largely unremarkable, and Bruce left it to his parents and Alfred to get settled in. As soon as he could, he picked up his child and carried Dick out behind the house. There was a swimming pool and a pretty lounge area, and no barriers between it and the ocean's edge just a short walk away.

 

Dick clutched Bruce hard and started to tremble. "No no no no no no no...!"

 

"I'm not going to leave you, Dickie," Bruce assured him, sitting down on a deck chair. "You are safe here. We can go slow. You can take all the time you need, years if you want. I will never abandon you in the ocean like the zoo made us do."

 

They stayed there for a while. Dick huddled in Bruce's arms, staring out at the waves, until he started to get too dry, then Bruce put him in the swimming pool (it needed to be salted, but a few hours of freshwater wouldn't do any significant damage). Dick occasionally relaxed enough to swim and play with Bruce in the pool, but frequently was drawn back to the side, where he stared at the ocean again.

 

At last, he turned away and signed that he wanted to go inside, so Bruce carried him back into the house.

 

o.o.o

 

Thomas and Martha stayed for as long as they could afford to be away from their work in Gotham, vacationing and spending time with their son and with the little creature whom they looked upon as a grandson. Bruce soon acquired a smaller boat than his yacht which made their supply trips to the mainland easier.

 

Though much of Bruce's time was spent researching animal rehabilitation techniques and in turn training Dick to be more comfortable in the sea, it occurred to him that he probably also ought to be giving Dick the basics of a human education as well. Although he had long been convinced of mer intelligence, he still marveled at seeing his beloved fish son haltingly making his way through a Winnie-the-Pooh book on his own. With no other mer to compare to, Bruce wasn't sure if Dick disliked reading as a personal preference or if it was a more general mer trait, but whatever the reason, the boy did enjoy math better. He liked science experiments, too, and was delighted when he learned how to make paper airplanes and lava lamps and vinegar-and-baking-soda volcanoes.

 

Dick also discovered just how much of an asset upper body strength could be for a mer having to make his way on land. After adopting a strength training regimen appropriate to his age, it soon became standard practice for him to walk around on his gloved hands, which he preferred to the wheelchair. Bruce also obtained some biodegradable plastic sleeves for his tail, which, when filled with an oily solution, could keep Dick hydrated without him having to constantly dip into the pool all day. Dick decorated them with stickers and glitter.

 

Although Bruce was careful to keep his child's mer nature hidden, Dick loved to go into town. Swaddled in his disguise and wheeling around in his chair, he nevertheless had a bright and sunny attitude that won him many friends in a very short period of time. He accompanied Bruce on almost every shopping trip (and even, as he got older, started making his own. He would tow the boat to shore, disguise himself in private, then head into town with the list and a shopping bag slung behind the wheelchair). He chatted at length with the shop owners and their families, called out greetings to passersby, even flirted with girls his age and played modified basketball with groups of boys (in defiance of Bruce's concerns that the sport might damage his disguise at some point).

 

Dick's English grew more natural-sounding as he spent more time around people who spoke more colloquially than Bruce did, and he started teaching ASL to a few interested people. He wandered around town and found people to talk to or play with just for the fun of it, and chatted readily with tourists in the summer. Bruce cautioned him to try to avoid being photographed.

 

Bruce eventually gave in to Dick's pleas to enroll him in school. He had hoped that the school wouldn't allow a child in who didn't legally exist, but it was a small town and half the staff already knew Dick from seeing him out and about, so they accepted him readily. Bruce, stern in his anxiety, lectured the principal and the nurse and the teachers and everyone else who came into regular contact with Dick about the boy's alleged special needs, and Bruce spent every week day in the school library, volunteering when there was work to do and trying to concentrate on his computer work when there wasn't, constantly worrying about Dick being outed or accidentally causing trouble.

 

The closest call came during one recess when a bully knocked Dick out of his chair and yanked the blanket away, but fortunately, the plastic sleeve concealed the details of the mer's lower body, and Dick's classmates and teachers were hotly defending and tending to him even before Bruce reached the playground.

 

Dick soon made many friends and rarely came to visit his worried guardian in the library (though Bruce sometimes did have to assist Dick if the boy got too dried out and needed to refresh in the single-stall handicap bathroom. Dick didn't actually need much help, but it was better to let the staff think that they weren't shutting a special needs child in a room all by himself. Most of what Bruce did was mopping up with paper towels, since Dick could get careless with the water and had never seen much point in tidiness).

 

At the end of every day, though, Dick came wheeling in, usually all smiles, and Bruce would drop whatever he was doing to kneel in front of the wheelchair and ask the boy how his day had gone and hug him, feeling himself relax just at the feel of his child safely in his arms. "You all right, Dick?"

 

"Yup, all good, B."

 

For all Bruce's anxiety and fretting, he was immensely proud whenever Dick won any kind of academic recognition, and religiously filmed all the awards ceremonies. He did the same with Dick's various extracurricular performances, though he nearly had a heart attack the time he attended a school play and discovered that Dick had been cast as a mermaid.

 

Dick shrieked with laughter afterward, gleefully recounting the look on Bruce's face and eagerly explaining how he'd managed it without either blowing his cover or spoiling the surprise. Everyone already thought that he'd been born with a deformity that had fused his legs into a single limb; it had been a simple matter to get a few girls' help in sewing a crappy fake bedazzled mer tail to slip over his real one. Copious amounts of glitter and makeup had misdirected any attention from his inhuman skin, especially since everyone already knew it was a strange color due to his 'medical condition.' The only true difficulty had been remembering to bend his tail at a single spot in the middle as if he only had one joint, but he had managed it, and no one was any the wiser.

 

Bruce had a myriad of skills and hobbies, and rather enjoyed trying out most of them with Dick and seeing which ones the boy took to and which he didn't. Surprisingly, the mer seemed to be interested in martial arts, and it was a nice challenge to figure out how to adapt hand-to-hand combat techniques to suit Dick's non-human body.

 

"You know what, no, I'm done getting hit with a giant fish tail today," Bruce laughed, backing away with his hands up defensively.

 

"Aww, c'mon old man, another round!"

 

Bruce kept meticulous records and journals despite having no one but his parents and Alfred to share them with. "It's too bad I'm not a scientist," he remarked one evening, writing up his daily report. Dick, cheerful but exhausted, was lounging beside him on the couch, sipping at a cup of juice. "I know there are people who would kill for this data." The reports were just for his own whims; he didn't feel comfortable sharing them and risking Dick's safety.

 

"B, I wanna watch the dragon movie," Dick said.

 

"You know how to work the TV."

 

"No, I want you to watch the dragon movie with me. Please, Dad."

 

Bruce's fingers froze on the keys of his laptop. He slowly made eye contact with Dick, who smiled sunnily. _"Second dad,"_ the mer amended. His smile started to fade. _"You don't want a fish son."_

 

"No! No, Dick, I...I'm-- I like-- it. Being...called that."

 

Dick smiled again. _"Watch How to Train Your Dragon with me."_

 

"Yes, all right, let me get it set up...."

 

Dick fell asleep a little over halfway through, his head pillowed on his father's leg and Bruce's fingers slowly carding through his hair. After ten more minutes had passed, Bruce leaned down and whispered, "As far as I'm concerned, you have been my son almost from the day I met you." Bruce leaned back and exhaled.

 

Dick, whose eyes were still closed, smiled in satisfaction.

 

TBC


	11. Chapter 11 - Up In the Sky

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 11 - Up In the Sky (rough draft 2)**

 

Bruce was in the kitchen when he heard Dick yelling excitedly, "Dad! Come look, come look!"

 

Bruce obligingly went into the living room and found the mer almost right up against the screen, staring in fascinated delight.

 

"Dick, you're too close to the TV."

 

"It's Superman!" Dick crowed when Bruce picked him up and moved him back to the couch.

 

"Oh, wow," Bruce said indulgently, glancing at the news report. A set of newscasters were discussing the story as looped cell phone footage played of the colorful alien in Metropolis fighting off some sort of giant robot.

 

"He can fly! I love him!"

 

"Glad to know the criteria for winning your love," Bruce said dryly, fighting down a hint of irrational jealousy.

 

_"Dad, I want to be Superman for Halloween!"_

 

"All right, we'll...do our best...."

 

On the 31st, Dick went out with his friends, proudly sporting a cape, a cowlick, a big stylized S on his chest, and blue and red blankets carefully arranged to match the superhero's color scheme. He was happily exhausted that night when Bruce took him home, and they settled behind the house as usual, Bruce reading a book on his cot and Dick at the edge of the pool leaning his head on one arm as he idly sorted through candy with his free hand.

 

The alien's descent was so silent, neither of them noticed for goodness knew how long until Bruce finally looked up at the sound of a cape flapping in the breeze.

 

"What the--?!" He was on his feet instantly, but got tangled up in a blanket and nearly fell in the pool. Dick screeched briefly and latched onto him in surprise and alarm.

 

Superman held up his hands placatingly. "Sorry, I'm sorry! I just, er.... I have, um, a friend, Clark Kent? You probably don't remember him, but he...told me about you a few years ago, and I saw the photo your friend Katie posted on Facebook tonight, and I, uh...just wanted...." He stared down at the mer, who had gotten over his shock and was now in the water beneath him, staring up in delight.

 

"You know you're technically trespassing," Bruce snapped.

 

"Sorry," Superman said, and he did sound contrite, but his eyes did not leave the mer. When Dick reached up with both hands to grasp his boot, he raised up his leg and Dick laughed to find himself easily drawn up out of the pool. Superman carefully took the child into his arms.

 

"Come down here," Bruce ordered, _really_ not happy about seeing a stranger - one who had super strength and laser vision - holding his child.

 

"No, fly, fly!" Dick urged eagerly.

 

"Let's ask permission, first," Superman said sheepishly, and descended until his feet touched the ground by the pool.

 

"Dick, come here," Bruce said, reaching in an unsuccessful attempt to pull the boy into his arms.

 

"No! I wanna fly!"

 

"Dick, you know how I gave you that lecture about not going anywhere with people you don't know?"

 

"It's SUPERMAN!"

 

"I can carry you, too, if you like," Superman offered diffidently.

 

Bruce studied the man through narrowed eyes. He wanted nothing more than to throw the alien off his property and take his child inside and hide him somewhere safe and guard him all night, but Dick was so...excited. Dick _loved_ Superman, was riveted every time the man showed up in the news and treasured all the merchandise he could get his hands on, and now his hero was right here, holding him, in no position to endanger him for being something other than human.

 

Bruce sighed deeply. "I'm coming, too, and if you hurt him, I _will_ find a way to kill you."

 

"You both are safe with me," Superman reassured him.

 

Bruce, clinging to the alien's back and intensely worried for Dick, did not enjoy the flight much, but the mer was in ecstasy as they soared around the island and then a ways out to sea.

 

"Stars! Stars, Dad!" he shrieked, reaching up to them with one hand, then both.

 

"Dick!"

 

"Aaaahhhh!" the boy yelled happily.

 

"I won't drop him," Superman assured Bruce. "And even if I did, I could catch him easily."

 

It was Dick who dropped himself a few minutes later, suddenly twisting in the alien's arms and crowing in delight when he fell. Superman yelled in just as much alarm as Bruce did and raced to catch him.

 

"Again! More!"

 

"DICK DON'T DO THAT!" Bruce bellowed.

 

Dick pouted. "Drop _him_ next."

 

"How about we don't drop anyone?" Superman suggested with nervous laughter.

 

Bruce was intensely relieved when they finally made it home in one piece. He snatched his son into his arms and glared, barely hearing Dick's excited rambling. "...and the wind like 'whaaaahhh,' fall through it so _fast_ I like it Dad please again Superman I love please fly again yeeeaaahhh...!"

 

"I didn't mean to! I just wanted to see him...I've been worried about him," Superman explained earnestly. "Ever since he was released into the wild, I've been worried about whether he survived or not, and seeing that he's okay, that he's safe, I just...."

 

"You can't tell _anyone_ ," Bruce growled. "Not even Kent, I _can't_ let this get into the news. If they find out Dick's living with me, they might arrest me for holding him in 'captivity,' or ABAZ might accuse me of theft, or poachers might come for him; you _can't_ let anyone know."

 

Dick finally went silent, glancing back and forth between the two men and curling his arms around Bruce's neck to comfort him.

 

"I won't tell," Superman promised. "And if anything ever happens, I will do all I can to defend you and Dick. I just...wanted to see him."

 

"I love Superman," Dick declared.

 

The superhero smiled. "I like you very much, too, Dick. Would it be...all right if I visit again sometime...?"

 

"Yes yes pleeeaaase!"

 

" _Only_ if you prove trustworthy," Bruce amended.

 

Superman smiled. "It was nice meeting you." He held out a hand. "Goodbye, Dick."

 

"Goodbye! Come back soon, I want to fly!"

 

After the alien left, it took a long time for them to go to sleep. Dick zoomed around and around the pool in his excitement, and Bruce sat there watching him, worrying, wondering what would happen if the world ever learned about his extraordinary child.

 

TBC


	12. Chapter 12 - The King

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 12 - The King (rough draft 2)**

 

**A/N: Warning for non-graphic discussion of rape.**

 

o.o.o

 

As Dick went through puberty, his red/green/yellow coloring darkened to black and blue, and the highlights gradually spread until his once mostly black hair had turned entirely blue. Bruce had to practically bribe the school to let Dick keep attending with 'dyed' hair, though it helped that Dick usually kept his hair covered in public.

 

Unfortunately, the boy also proved that mer teenagers were just as rebellious and stubborn as human ones.

 

He and Bruce started having their first real arguments, some of them quite explosive. The mer would often end the fights by ripping off his human clothes, hand-marching out to the ocean, and vanishing into the waves; sometimes he'd be gone for days. Bruce was always worried sick about him. Dick was better trained now and the ultimate goal _was_ to get him permanently living in the wild, but he was still just a kid swimming alone in the ocean. The only thing that kept Bruce from losing his mind was that the mer had agreed to be microchipped, so at least Bruce could stare at his tablet screen, obsessively tracking the little blue dot.

 

Every fight cut Bruce deeply and even old ones remained vivid in his memory, but the cooldown periods seemed to do wonders for Dick. He always returned home in high spirits, barging into the house as if he'd never left, wolfing down his favorite treats, and cuddling with Bruce. It was a long time before Bruce managed to get through a reunion without shedding any tears.

 

Not all the separations stemmed from anger. Dick started spending a lot of nights in the ocean, close to shore but with natural saltwater cradling his body and fish passing him by. Sometimes he would accompany Bruce out in a boat, shout excitedly about a whale or something that had captured his attention, and disappear for hours.

 

When Dick grew literate enough, he started, with Bruce's supervision, getting active on the Internet. He lurked, then started participating in, several online groups and message boards focused on anti-captivity activism, and eventually started his own. He made many friends and provided them with a lot of insider info, though he agreed with Bruce that it wouldn't be wise to trust even activists with the revelation that he himself was a mer since he hadn't even met them face to face.

 

Dick was fourteen years old the day he crawled out of the waves and brought two strangers into the house with him.

 

Bruce, who'd just been coming out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee, stopped dead and stared at the strangers dripping seawater all over his living room floor. The man was very muscular, with long blond hair and a gold-and-green outfit that seemed to be made of scales. The woman was stunningly beautiful, with crimson hair and a bright green suit that also seemed to be made of scales. She wore a tiara, and the man was holding an honest-to-God trident.

 

"This is my human dad!" Dick announced, stopping his scooter board at Bruce's feet, hugging his leg with one arm, and waving the other in proud presentation.

 

"Hello," Bruce said warily, setting down his mug on a nearby credenza and tensing for a fight.

 

"He says you rescued him from ABAZ," the man spoke.

 

Bruce wondered how this apparent sea person knew about the zoo, and with enough familiarity to use the acronym. He said it too comfortably to be simply repeating whatever Dick had told him.

 

"I was under the impression that humans think we are chattel to be exploited and used," the woman said, her expression harder than her companion's. "What makes you so different that you would decide to save a legless child from his tormentors?"

 

"They didn't see him as a child. I did."

 

"Meraaaa," Dick whined, "don't be mean. Dad is good."

 

"Bruce," Bruce said. "My name is Bruce."

 

The woman merely tilted her head, but the man's eyes widened in recognition. "Wait - Bruce? You're Bruce Wayne, the Mermaid Man."

 

"How do you _know_ that?" Bruce exclaimed. He was a local celebrity in Amnesty Bay and, for different reasons, in Gotham, but he wasn't usually recognized elsewhere.

 

The man smiled a little and extended his hand. "Arthur Curry. Born and raised in Amnesty Bay."

 

"You're not...a mer?" Bruce said, warily accepting the handshake.

 

"I'm Atlantean-- _She's_ Atlantean, anyway; I'm half. Dad was a fisherman. I only got dragged into the whole Atlantis thing recently."

 

"Atlantis," Bruce said flatly, mind racing as he suddenly started considering the implications of this.

 

" _King_ of Atlantis," the woman elaborated, throwing Arthur a loaded look.

 

"She's Mera," Arthur introduced.

 

"Dad," Dick said, slithering around in his excitement, "they're like me but they _want_ me, they don't think I'm a freak!"

 

"Put a sleeve on," Bruce said, because going into Dad Mode was a lot easier than wondering frantically if these sea people were going to take his son away from him.

 

Dick trilled impatiently and headed to the nearest stash of tail sleeves, and Bruce fetched a washcloth to mop up the water, slime, and stray scales Dick had left on the floor.

 

The king of the sea and his...consort? personal assistant? bodyguard?? stayed for a couple of hours, learning about Dick's captivity and how he'd been living in freedom. They, particularly Mera, had a lot of tips and offers when it came to preparing Dick for life in the ocean, and while Bruce was taking copious notes on that, Arthur was going through all the evidence Bruce had collected over the years about how marine animals, particularly mer, suffered in captivity. Dick himself soon got bored and played video games for a while until Bruce made him start working on all the schoolwork he'd missed.

 

"I'm shutting Ocean World down," Arthur said darkly as he stared at the timeline Bruce had compiled of the breeding history of Dick's mother, Mary. "And ABAZ, and every other place that thinks it's acceptable to rape my people."

 

Dick's head popped up with a frown when he heard the word 'rape,' and Bruce grimaced fiercely at Arthur.

 

" 'Rape' is when you make someone have sex but they don't want to," Dick said solemnly. "My mer dad said when I'm older, if they put me in the water with a woman, leave her alone if she doesn't want me, and be gentle and let her be boss if she does. The other ones before Dad, they weren't gentle and Mom got really hurt. I won't _ever_ do to anyone what they did to Mom."

 

Bruce felt like there was ice flowing through his veins. He'd had absolutely no idea that Dick had been aware of what had happened to his mother.

 

"These other kids," Arthur said, his voice shaking with fury, "where are they? I'm getting them out."

 

Dick braced his palms on the floor and rose to his full upper body height, staring at the king intently.

 

"Raya's dead," Bruce said. "Fatally injured in a fight with another mer, and she doesn't have any surviving children. Sonia's in a research laboratory in Maine; I wasn't able to get access to her."

 

Arthur stood up. "I'm getting her out. I'm going to save your sister, Dick."

 

Dick dipped his head and smiled fiercely.

 

"It'll most likely have to be by force," Bruce said. "I don't think you'll be able to hide your powers on a mission like this."

 

"You'll be declaring yourself to the surface world," Mera added. "Are you ready for that, Arthur?"

 

Arthur twitched his shoulders in a tense shrug. "Orm's plan was to start a war; revealing ourselves is inevitable. Might as well be because of this as anything else."

 

o.o.o

 

As soon as Bruce realized that a certain king of the sea was on the news, he turned on the TV, which stayed on the rest of the day. Arthur, dubbed 'Aquaman' by the news even after he revealed his first name, had made a dramatic entrance at the Maine research lab. There was a widely-circulating video clip of him, with Mera at his side, striding out of the facility with a frightened little mermaid in his arms. He stopped to make a short speech to recording bystanders, announcing who he was, what he was doing, and that he planned to visit the rest of his captive subjects and see how they were being treated. Then he retreated dramatically into the sea.

 

That evening, Arthur came, alone and quiet, to the beach house. "Hey, Dick," he greeted when the mer raced to meet him.

 

"Sona! Where's Sona?!" the boy demanded, mispronouncing the name in his rush.

 

"Sonia's safe, Dick, down in Atlantis. Traumatized, but Mera and plenty of others are tending to her." Arthur paused. "I was wondering if it would be all right if I could bring you down to Atlantis with me, Dick." Although he addressed the mer, he raised his eyes to Bruce, and Dick immediately turned and stared at Bruce pleadingly, too.

 

"I-- Of course," Bruce said, trying not to let the words get caught in his suddenly tight throat. "I-- Is there any chance I...could come, too?"

 

"That can be arranged," Arthur said.

 

"I.... We need to pack," Bruce said as Dick spun in place and cheered. "I...I don't know...how long we'll be down there." He blinked. "Just to be clear, how long are you offering to host Dick?"

 

Arthur looked surprised. "He's a mer, he's always welcome. But he's your son, too; I'm not going to take him away from you. You two can work things out between you."

 

"We're going to Atlantiiiiiis!" Dick yelled, tossing himself across the floor.

 

"Dick, _please_ ," Bruce said when the boy nearly knocked over a side table.

 

Arthur went back home for the night, and Bruce spent hours packing and sending messages and making arrangements. Dick was too excited to sleep for a while, but finally crashed in Bruce's bed around midnight.

 

Bruce carefully lay down beside him and very softly ran a hand through his hair, wondering with an aching heart if this was the beginning of the end. He had always meant to give the mer true freedom, and though he knew it was the right thing for Dick, he hadn't expected it to happen when his boy was still so young. Four years left until official adulthood, the time had passed so _quickly_....

 

He kissed Dick's hair, carried him to the bathroom, took off his sleeve, and let him sleep in the tub.

 

TBC

 

A/N: I know almost nothing about Aquaman, sorry! I'm basing most of this AU's Aquaman-related stuff on what I remember of the DCEU movie.

 

I realized.....in hindsight.......that mer probably ought to be super-strong on land like Atlanteans are. X''''D Oh well; just...ignore that, too late to fix....

 

In New 52 _Nightwing_ , Raya was a childhood friend of Dick's at Haly's who reunited with him when they were adults, briefly dated him, got sucked into a stupid Comic Book Drama revenge plot against him, and eventually died horribly in the "Death of the Family" story arc. Sonia is the daughter of Tony Zucco; she's not a villain in either pre-Flashpoint ("The Black Mirror" story arc) or New 52 _Nightwing_ , but she's more sympathetic in N52, helping out Dick financially when he's struggling to run Haly's Circus as its new owner.

 

Captive orca breeding, y'all.... Before artificial insemination, they used to put animals together to mate, and it didn't always go well. One of the orcas, Gudrun, was raped repeatedly for hours by an orca named Kanduke; we know it was rape because when she was later bred with Tilikum, the coupling was markedly different. (This might have had something to do with the fact that Gudrun & Tilikum had both been captured from the same region and might have naturally interacted in the wild, whereas Kanduke had been taken from a completely different ocean.) While Kanduke chased her around the pool and was violent with her, Tilikum was gentle and easygoing, and they continued spending time together afterward.

 

Artificial insemination might spare the orcas from being raped violently, but the females still have to undergo invasive and uncomfortable procedures that take lengthy training to get them to endure. On top of that, they're bred way too young (years before the average age of wild orcas' first pregnancies) and frequently (captive orcas are impregnated over and over without giving their bodies sufficient time to recover from previous pregnancies). Calves are also frequently separated from their mothers, often because the mothers will be more interested in tending to their fussy kids than performing in shows, and/or because the corporation wants to breed the mother at another park. Ftr, in the wild, female orcas stay with their mothers until they start their own families, and males stay with their mothers permanently, so this has the exact same emotional effect as forcibly separating human children from their parents.

 

According to Wikipedia, SeaWorld has finally stopped their orca breeding program (I assume because their main stud, Tilikum, finally died; Kanduke was already dead by that point and Ulises, the only other male they successfully trained to produce reproductive material on demand, was not very successful at siring calves). I'm glad, because there are so many problems with breeding orcas in captivity. A lot of captive-born orcas are hybrids who would never exist in the wild. There's also an inbreeding problem, since so few male orcas were successfully trained to ejaculate on command and only Tilikum's samples were consistently reliable.

 

(That's why SW was bound and determined to keep Tilikum even after he killed three humans, because he was their prize stud animal. After the third and most high-profile killing, he was kept very isolated, which was safer for the humans but it also meant he didn't even have those stupid Shamu shows and training to relieve his boredom and loneliness. It's just _bad_ , a bad situation all around; nothing could possibly justify the moral cost of holding orcas in captivity for entertainment.)

 

 **"Siren song" outtake:** This was in the original draft, but it started making me very spiritually uneasy because it was too much like witchcraft, so I cut it. Figured I'd include it as an outtake, though.

 

When Dick was fourteen, he exhibited a behavior that was still half in the realm of myth and legend.

 

Bruce was on the deck of the yacht, reading a book and feeling vaguely sad and lonely. Then he heard...something. And he looked up.

 

The next thing he knew, he was swimming in the open ocean; the yacht was nowhere in sight; _the sky had changed_. Time had passed in the blink of an eye. He was exhausted, he wasn't wearing a life vest, and he had NO IDEA HOW HE HAD GOTTEN OUT HERE.

 

The utter silence behind the natural ocean sounds sent a shudder through his bones. Then he nearly screamed when the crown of a head and a pair of brilliant sapphire eyes emerged without fanfare from the water almost right in front of him.

 

"RICHARD!!" Bruce shrieked.

 

Sheepishly, Dick rose a little farther out of the water and asked verbally, "You gotta knife?"

 

"What?"

 

"I'm...stuck...."

 

Dick had apparently been swimming with a dolphin pod when two of them, and then Dick while trying to rescue them, had gotten caught in a huge accretion of plastic. The pod was long gone by now, but Dick's tail and left arm were bound by hopelessly tangled long plastic strips. Bruce used the last of his strength cutting the mer loose, then fell asleep as Dick swam powerfully, towing him.

 

Bruce woke up when Dick started nudging him. They were right beside the boat, but Dick couldn't get up on deck on his own. "Where are the ropes?" Bruce groaned, dragging himself up with great effort. He usually left some way to get back up if he ever left the boat.

 

"You forgot?"

 

"I don't even remember leaving the boat!!"

 

"Oh...sorry...."

 

The phrase settled in the back of Bruce's mind, but he didn't give it any conscious thought until they were both safe, curled up together in a blanket nest by the heater. Bruce woke up again in the middle of the night, found Dick snacking in the kitchen, and demanded, "Sorry for _what_?"

 

Dick smiled sheepishly. Then he began to Sing.

 

When Bruce came back to himself, his whole body was pressed hard against Dick's as if he was trying to crush him into the floor.

 

"Ow!" Dick was laughing beneath him. "Squishing me!"

 

"What--?!" Bruce scrambled off, shocked and absolutely confused.

 

 _"I have to practice,"_ Dick mused. _"There has to be a way to sing without you trying to fuse with me."_

 

"You-- you were _singing_ just now?! Siren-singing?!?!" He had heard Dick sing before, usually to silly pop songs. He had never before heard that ethereal _Song_ , vocalizations that seemed to reach straight from the heart of the sea into Bruce's and draw him as close as possible to the beckoning siren. " _That's_ how you called me off the boat all the way to where you were trapped in the plastic?!"

 

_"Sorry, I panicked...."_

 

They spent weeks experimenting and practicing. Bruce found he could resist the call, with difficulty, if he was expecting it, but if Dick caught him so unaware that he didn't even hear the song start, he also wasn't aware of the need to resist. He learned to react with 'tensed willpower,' so to speak, anytime he started to pick up on the subtle cues that a siren song was about to start.

 

*the rest was technical and boring*

 

**SPOILERS BELOW**

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

This is from _Batfam Bingo 2019: Switching_ :

 

The merman opened his mouth and...vocalized. All four Bruces immediately lunged at him, getting in each other's way and practically tackling the mer to the sand, who broke off his song with an alarmed shriek.

 

"GET THE HELL OFF HIM!" *selkie-Jason* yelled.


	13. Chapter 13 - A Beautiful Cage

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 13 - A Beautiful Cage (rough draft 2)**

 

An odd little vehicle arrived the next morning, piloted by a silent, stoic Atlantean who waited as Bruce put his luggage inside and climbed in himself. "Stick close, Dick," Bruce instructed sternly, grabbing the mer's arm as he slid past. "Are you listening to me? Don't run off. I don't want something to happen to you before we even get there."

 

"Yes yes okay!!"

 

Although Dick didn't wander _too_ far during the journey, it was a close thing. Bruce watched anxiously as the mer constantly darted around in excitement, sometimes out of sight. "Dick, _please_ ," Bruce grumbled.

 

Fortunately, they reached the city without trouble. By then, Dick had gotten tired and was hanging onto the vehicle, letting it pull him along so he didn't have to swim. As soon as the shining city came in sight, though, he launched toward it, and Bruce lost track of him amidst the swarms of swimming people and giant, apparently domesticated sea creatures.

 

The vehicle came to rest in a chamber that was drained of all water. More Atlanteans entered and encased Bruce in what seemed like some sort of air-suit made out of magic or something, then led him out into a corridor of the submerged palace. Bruce could feel some of the water pressure and the chill even through the air-suit. _"Where is my child?"_ Bruce immediately asked in mer-sign.

 

The Atlanteans stared at him. There was some conferring too quiet for Bruce to hear through the suit, then one of them hurried off. As they waited, Bruce asked about Dick again.

 

"Forgive us, we thought you used the same surface language as King Arthur," one of them said. Their voices sounded slightly distorted to Bruce's ears, but he could understand them. "None of us currently present know the flying fish dialect, but we have sent for someone who does."

 

"Wait - you know English?" Bruce asked.

 

"King Arthur selected us specifically because he wanted your escorts to be able to communicate with you."

 

"What did you mean by 'dialect'? Is there more than one mer language?"

 

The linguist soon arrived and answered questions until the edge had been taken off of Bruce's distraction and he got back to the point. "Where is my son? Dick, the mer who came with me."

 

"He is with his sister. We will take you to him."

 

Bruce was led through a maze of corridors until they reached a chamber where Sonia, Dick's young sister, was curled in a nest of soft seaweed, with a group of humanoid Atlanteans bustling around her and the room. At the sight of Bruce, the mermaid screamed in fear, and Dick, who had been hugging and murmuring to her, shot toward Bruce. _"Go away!!"_

 

_"I'm sorry, I--"_

 

Dick pushed him into the hall and to the side, out of sight of the occupants of the room. _"What are you doing here?!"_

_"Looking for you! I was worried about you!"_

_"I'm FINE. Go away!"_

_"Son,"_ Bruce signed hesitantly, hurt, not sure what else to say.

 

Dick softened. _"Sorry, Dad. I love you and I'll see you later, but I want to be with my sister now, okay?"_

 

After a moment, Bruce made himself nod. Dick cocked his head sympathetically and gave him a tight hug, then vanished back into the chamber.

 

He was so... _quick_ , and so graceful. Bruce was not used to seeing him like this. Dick on land was awkward by necessity, whether dragging himself across the floor or on a scooter board or in a chair, or walking on his hands. The times Bruce did get to see him swim, it was almost always from a higher vantage point. This was...new, watching Dick move in his natural element while at eye level.

 

 _'He's home now,'_ Bruce thought, his heart sinking.

 

o.o.o

 

During the few days Bruce spent in Atlantis, he spent a lot of time in his room. The magic suit was not entirely reliable, as he discovered when it gave out after a few hours and he nearly drowned. Arthur gave him a human diving suit to replace it with, which was better, but Bruce was still very clumsy and slow compared to all the Atlanteans surrounding him, and the disgust or pity almost everyone seemed to treat him with made him feel disabled. ......He _was_ disabled in this environment, and it sucked.

 

What made it even worse was that Dick was pretty much the only one who knew ASL, so Bruce's only form of communicating underwater was the specific dialect of Dick's parents, which not many people here understood and which turned out to be at an eight-year-old's linguistic level, due to Dick's being so young when he lost the only other 'speakers' of it. Bruce felt incredibly isolated, especially since Arthur and Mera were usually busy and Dick was gone most of the time, reveling in the novelty and excitement of being in a city of sea-people.

 

Bruce couldn't leave to explore outside the palace except in a vehicle, since the immense water pressure would crush him otherwise.

 

He tried for a couple of days to look around the palace and to browse through the library (despite most of its materials being in Atlantean), but it was annoying having to go back to his room or to a docking bay so frequently to switch out oxygen tanks. Traveling alone was dangerous because a lot of Atlanteans were prejudiced against the surface dwellers who poisoned their waters, but Bruce chafed whenever he was accompanied by an interpreter and bodyguards.

 

The few times he was able to be with Dick outside his room, it was mostly just him drifting awkwardly on the side as Dick played games with Atlanteans that were beyond Bruce's physical ability, or had conversations with them in English, which the mer had no problem adapting to the different density of water. The few times Dick did remember to pay attention to his father, it was, to Bruce's humiliation, mostly fussing over whether there was enough oxygen left in Bruce's current tank or whether he was able to keep up with the sea-people's stronger swimming, as if Dick was now the parent and Bruce the helpless child.

 

 _'I can't STAND this.'_ Just a few days into their visit, Bruce had given up and now spent all his time moping around his room. There was no Internet service or cell phone reception down here, so he was desperately bored and tried to come up with ways to occupy his time that weren't reading the books he'd brought, studying the Atlantean language, or exercising within the confines of his chamber.

 

 _'This is what Dick felt like,'_ he thought bleakly, sitting on a chair and staring out at the waters thriving with people outside. _'This is what his parents felt like, and all the other mer in captivity; all the orcas and dolphins, ALL of them. All those years...confined, bored out of their minds, out of their element, alone, dependent on their captors for everything....'_

 

It had been even _worse_ for Dick and his people. Miserable as Bruce was, at least he wasn't being forced to constantly perform or to breed, wasn't receiving inadequate care or being subjected to frightening, unexplained procedures or being forcibly separated from his loved ones. _'We're monsters. Humans are monsters. We don't deserve them. I don't deserve him....'_

 

The one highlight of his day was always in the evening (not that he could actually tell it was evening except by his watch), when Dick would finally come in to sleep.

 

As usual, Dick came swimming through the transparent barrier very low so that when he slid through it, there was barely any drop when he hit the ground. He was already chattering before he'd even got his whole tail through.

 

"Dad, Rampage had his babies today!" he exclaimed, referencing his favorite mega-seahorse in the stables. "There were five of them, almost as big as me, they're so _cute_!" Dick himself didn't seem to be giving it a second thought, but it pained Bruce to watch his beloved son go from being a beautiful dancer in the water to pathetic and crippled in this human room, literally crawling on the floor. "Except the littlest one, I mean, she's still cute but she's smaller than the others," Dick continued as he stopped by the box of tail sleeves, not bothering with hydrating solution before he slipped it on because he only needed it to protect the bedding for a little while. He continued on his way to Bruce. "They said I can ride her when she's older. Isn't that cool?"

 

"It is, Dick," Bruce replied, helping Dick onto the bed. "I'm...very glad you're so happy here."

 

 _"I LOVE Atlantis!"_ Dick sign-yelled, then snuggled up to his father, who held him close and tried to savor what might be one of their very last embraces. "I wish I could live here foreverrrrr!"

 

"You...you might, Dick."

 

"Really?!"

 

"Yes. I...have to think about it a little more--" That was a lie; Bruce was just procrastinating on what he already meant to do. "--but there's a good chance you'll be able to stay for good."

 

_"YES, you're the best, Dad!!"_

 

As was their usual custom, they cuddled for a while before bedtime. At home, Dick usually slept in the backyard pool or in the ocean, but he'd always been a tactile child and, even as a teenager, liked the comfort of nestling in his father's arms. Bruce had wondered if he should start discouraging it as the boy grew older, but then found out that members of wild mer pods kept in close physical contact while they rested so that they wouldn't lose each other in the currents.

 

When Dick's upper body started to get too dry, he sighed and sleepily started to crawl away, intending to either sleep in his sister's quarters or to settle for the night in the tub in Bruce's room.

 

"Dick," Bruce called softly, "I...need to talk to you."

 

Dick frowned, went to dip himself in the water outside, then hurried back. "What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing, nothing, I-- just...." Bruce swallowed. "Dick, I think I'm going to leave tomorrow."

 

_"But you just said we'd stay! There's still a lot I want to do, and my sister needs me!"_

 

"I know. Don't worry, Dick, you can stay here. I'll send down anything you want from the house, and...I have to doublecheck with Arthur, but I'm sure he won't have a problem with you staying here permanently."

 

Dick's brow was furrowed. "You just said you're leaving."

 

"Yes, _I'm_ leaving. You can stay. This is your home now, Dick."

 

Dick suddenly went still and widened his eyes. "No, Dad. This is _our_ home. This is your room!" He switched to signing. _"This is the best place to live, why would you want to leave?!_"

 

"Dick, I can't live here! I can't sit here locked in this-- this _jail cell_ anymore!"

 

_"It's not jail! You can leave whenever you want, King had good things brought to make you comfortable and happy, it's not--!"_

 

"Dick, I will _die_ if I set foot outside the palace! It's a struggle just to get each air tank to last twenty or thirty minutes! I'm _stuck_ in this room, Dick, I can't live like this anymore."

 

"But--!"

 

"You remember the zoo? Those tanks you were trapped in? This is my zoo tank, Dick. This place is ABAZ for me. I'm trapped and bored and lonely, and I'll lose my mind if I have to stay here much longer."

 

Dick stared at him for a very long moment. Then he bowed his head and started to cry.

 

"Dickie...."

 

Dick could do nothing but sob as Bruce held him tightly for a while. The mer finally signed with unsteady hands, still crying, _"No one here hurts you like they hurt me! This isn't jail! I don't want you to leave!"_

 

"I have to...Dickie, I have to, I'm so sorry, chum...."

 

The boy seemed to break in Bruce's arms. _"I'll come with you...!"_

 

"No, Dickie."

 

_"I'll come.... Better me...in jail...than you...!"_

 

"No, Dick. No. Hush. No. Dickie, I have _always_ wanted you to be free. _This_ is your freedom, _this_ is your home. I was always temporary, I was never going to be enough for you, Dick. Hush, it's all right, you are very happy here and you're going to keep being happy, you don't need me anymore, you finally found your people, Dick, it's all right, ssshhh...it's all right, Dickie...."

 

"No...! No, it's not...! Dad...! B...! _B, don't go...! Why do my parents always leave me...?!"_

 

o.o.o

 

By midmorning the next day, Bruce was packed and Arthur had a vehicle waiting. The Atlanteans bid Bruce a polite goodbye; Dick was clingy and in low spirits.

 

 _"Goodbye, c-h-u-m,"_ Bruce signed when there was no reason left to linger. Dick simply stared back at him, not replying except for the grief in his sapphire eyes. Bruce finally turned away and stepped through the barrier, keeping the suit on but pulling away his breathing mask. He started to get into the vehicle.

 

Dick burst through the barrier and slapped to the floor with little of his usual grace, crawling frantically toward his father. "Dad! Dad!"

 

Bruce turned back and hastily scooped him up. "What is it, son?"

 

"...Nothing! NOTHING! I hate you!" Dick sobbed, pressing his face into Bruce's shoulder and beating at his back, tail curling around him as if trying to hold him in place. After several minutes, Mera finally approached and held out her arms. Dick had gone limp by this time and didn't resist being handed over. Mera stepped back into the water, and Dick, still in her arms, watched as his second father departed, ascended, and disappeared.

 

TBC

 

A/N: In the infuriating pro-captivity book I'm reading, I'm sure the author would argue that the people at her park give their orcas the very best care. The thing is, orcas are just TOO DANG BIG. No matter how good the facility, it's _impossible_ for human beings to give orcas care on land that would be as good as how they would have lived if they'd never been captured from the ocean. The closest we can get for orcas who can't be responsibly released is housing them in sea pens, so they can have as normal a life as possible, but there's no way to match that on land.


	14. Chapter 14 - When the Book is Finished

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 14 - When the Book is Finished (rough draft 2)**

 

Bruce didn't know what to do with himself once he was back home. He carefully and methodically unpacked and put everything away, then warmed up a frozen meal and forced himself to eat it. Then he slept for twelve hours straight. Then he sat in the sand for another hour or two, just watching the ocean that had given him his only child and then taken him away again.

 

He returned to the house and went back to sleep, his face stiff with tear tracks.

 

o.o.o

 

Bruce started to write a book. He'd never written anything in his life outside of school assignments and reports, but he had all the material and he had _so much time_ now, so why not?

 

As most of his projects did, it became an obsession. He woke up every morning at 5:15 a.m., went through a 45-minute physical exercise and training regimen, downed a protein shake for breakfast, then got on the computer and worked on the book until his phone alerted him that it was time for lunch at exactly 12:00 p.m.

 

He'd eat a sandwich while sitting on his front porch, watching the ocean, then return to work on the book until it was time to microwave a frozen dinner at 6:00 p.m. On certain days, two hours were spent on any business or errands; on other days, he would answer messages and read the news. He called his parents faithfully every night after they'd had their own dinner, then he would try to sleep. If he couldn't, he'd either work on the book again or go out and sit on the sand, holding Dick's toy elephant and watching in vain for any sign of his boy emerging from the dark depths.

 

o.o.o

 

_"Oh, I'm so glad I finally caught you, Bruce! We've been worried about Dickie. You know, he's fallen behind on quite a lot of schoolwork, but we'd be happy to assign him a tutor after school and get him back up to--"_

 

"Dick's gone. His bio-parents showed up, I lost custody."

 

There was a stunned silence. _"Oh...oh, my goodness, Bruce, I'm so sor--"_

 

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut and jerked the phone away from his ear. After a moment, he cleared his throat, said gruffly into the phone, "I am, too," then hung up. He stormed back to his computer and wrote some more.

 

o.o.o

 

A little before noon, Bruce was startled to hear a loud clanging sound coming from right outside the house. The beat came every two seconds until Bruce scrambled outside.

 

He stopped dead, staring. Floating in midair was a magnificent woman, tall and beautiful, muscular, her expression serious, her American-colored armor shining in the sunlight. The noise had been from her striking her sword against her shield.

 

Before Bruce could even start to figure out why he was getting a visit from freaking _Wonder Woman_ , the ambassador from a mythical land who had made headlines upon her arrival in Washington, D.C. a month or two ago, she had descended and was striding toward him. "I greet you in peace, Man," she said in a powerful voice.

 

"Hello...."

 

"I am Diana of Themyscira." She came to a stop in front of him, very straight-backed, her stance solid. She was slightly taller than him, even though Bruce was not a short man. "It has come to my attention that there is an oppressed and imprisoned race here, yet the bureaucracy of this country prevents my righting the injustice peacefully. I was told that you have in your possession much valuable information that will aid in the liberation of this race under the laws of the land."

 

She had to be referring to mer. "Who told you I might have such information?" he asked sharply. Very few people knew about the evidence he'd collected.

 

"King Arthur of Atlantis and Kal-El of Krypton."

 

Oh. "I can't...give you all of it. My son and I would be endangered. But I do have useful material that doesn't implicate us, I'll make a flash drive for you...."

 

The Amazon warrior seemed thoroughly out of place in Bruce's upscale beach house, but as archaic and formal as she was, she softened when Bruce started showing her photographs and videos of Dick. "Oh, what a delightful child. I have not met him yet, but Arthur says he has a marvelous spirit, and now I see he is additionally very sweet and graced."

 

"That he is," Bruce murmured, watching with a bittersweet ache as Dick in the video danced to "Macarena" on the sand, hoisting himself up on his hands and athletically sweeping his tail in a circle beneath him before starting the next repetition of moves.

 

Diana stayed a while, discussing matters with Bruce over tea. At last, she stood and carefully closed the flash drive Bruce had given her into a small box, tucked it away into her armor, then rose slightly in the air. "I am honored to have met you, Bruce Wayne of Gotham."

 

"Likewise, Diana. Let me know how things go and if you need anymore help."

 

She nodded and then turned, soaring away.

 

Bruce sighed deeply, then went back to work on his book.

 

o.o.o

 

_"Have you thought about coming home, sweetheart? Your father and I are worried about you."_

 

"I...I can't-- What if he comes back, Mother? I can't-- He'll be looking for me and the house will be empty, I can't-- do that to him."

 

_"...I see. Well, if you ever feel differently, you know you are always very welcome here, right?"_

 

"Yes, Mother, I know."

 

o.o.o

 

When Bruce picked up his mail from the post office, one of the employees stopped him and went to fetch a whole sack full of more correspondence. They were letters to Dick, many of them handmade, from his friends and classmates at school and many of the town's citizens who'd heard the cover story.

 

_We miss you, Dick!_

_Come back to play with us again, okay?_

_You were an okay guy, Dick. Too bad your parents showed up. Sorry for pushing you back then._

_*heart* *star* *heart* *star* We love you, Dickie!! *star* *heart* *star* *heart*_

 

Bruce took them home and set them all up in a corner, carefully setting Zitka the elephant in the middle and hanging Dick's two favorite T-shirts on the walls.

 

"Come back, Dickie," he whispered.

 

o.o.o

 

_"Darling, it's been weeks. Don't you think--?"_

 

"I'm almost done with my book. I'm-- When I finish my book. Maybe."

 

o.o.o

 

The doorbell rang, which meant it was Superman. No one else ever came to this secluded home uninvited and bothered to ring the bell.

 

Bruce sighed. "Dick's gone; go away!" he shouted. Technically, he could have whispered and the alien would have still heard him, but the moment he started to speak, his voice seemed to boom without permission, aggression rising up in him so quickly that he was surprised. He'd been peacefully writing his book; why was he even angry? "Dick's fucking gone! He's DEAD TO ME!!"

 

Clark crept warily into the study. "Bruce?"

 

"Go away," Bruce whispered, his throat tight, his fingers too stiff to press the keys anymore. "Go...away...!" Clark simply took a step closer, and Bruce buried his face in his hands.

 

"What-- Did something happen to Dick? Is he all right?"

 

"He's FINE," Bruce snarled. "He went fucking _home_. Mission accomplished. Animal rehabilitated and released into the wild; what a fucking paragon of conservation I am."

 

Clark pulled up a chair and set a hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy and comforting. Bruce didn't know how long he sat there with his face in his hands, but when he finally raised his head, he felt a little calmer. "I'm on the last chapter. Stay until I finish; I want to give you a copy of the manuscript."

 

"All right."

 

As Clark wandered across the beach for the next hour, Bruce finished his memoir. He sat there for a long moment, trembling a little with an emotion he couldn't describe. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened his eyes again, and moved the cursor to the very beginning of the document. He added a page break, and at the center of the new first page, he typed:

 

_The Boy in the Fish Tank_

_by_

_Bruce Wayne_

 

He hit the Print button.

 

Clark stayed for dinner since the manuscript took so long to finish printing. The man took one look inside Bruce's refrigerator, sighed, asked for a set of civilian clothes, flew over to the mainland, then came back with groceries.

 

"I _have_ food," Bruce said sourly.

 

"You have nutrients. Until now, I didn't believe it was possible, but apparently 'nutrients' and 'food' are not necessarily the same thing."

 

They cooked together, or rather, Clark guided Bruce through a simple recipe and Bruce just barely succeeded in not setting fire to anything.

 

Bruce didn't say much as they ate. Clark kept up an easy stream of chatter at first, but the words gradually died away, and they finished their meal in companionable silence.

 

Once the dishes were in the sink, Bruce fetched the thick stack of paper from his desk and slid it into a large envelope. "Tell me what you think," he said roughly as he handed it over.

 

"I will," Clark promised. "And I'll keep it secret unless you give me permission to share it."

 

"How's the campaign going?" Bruce asked, referring to combined efforts to work toward giving mer legal status as people.

 

"There's a good chance we'll get a Congressional hearing in the near future."

 

"Good," Bruce exhaled. "That's good."

 

o.o.o

 

It took longer to revise and edit the book than it had been to write the first draft. Once it was as perfect as Bruce could make it when he only dared show it to Clark, his parents, and Alfred, he had it self-published. As soon as the box from the printing company arrived, he took it home and opened it with silent intensity. He removed a crisp copy of _The Boy in the Fish Tank_ , fetched a bookmark, and settled in an easy chair by the window to read.

 

It took him two days to read his memoir, purposely going slow. When he finished, he stared at the blank page between the final word of text and the back cover. Slowly, he closed the book and set it down on the side table. He stared across his empty living room for a while.

 

Then he got up and moved down to the water's edge, eyes searching the waves. He waited, and waited, and each minute that passed sent another piece of hope crumbling - the foolish, secret hope he'd nursed for so long that maybe, once he had finished his book, the spell would break and his son would return home.

 

o.o.o

 

Foolish, childish, _stupid_. Some wishes never had a chance of coming true.

 

Bruce brought an armful of bottles up from the wine cellar and got drunk, then slept for fourteen hours straight. Half an hour after waking up, he finally managed to drag himself out of bed long enough to pee, then shuffled back to the mattress.

 

o.o.o

 

"Alfred...I'm coming home. Don't...don't tell Mother and Father yet. I...I just.... ...I'm coming home."

 

_"Very good, sir. I shall make sure your room is prepared."_

 

o.o.o

 

It was getting close to nightfall and Bruce physically felt like crap, but at least the angry, grieving depression had been replaced with resignation. Dick was gone. Bruce had raised his son as well as he could, and now Dick was happy in his true home with his true people, and it was time for Bruce to move on toward the next phase of his life, just like Dick obviously had.

 

He had made lists of everything he needed to do and pack before leaving for Gotham. He needed to get supplies, too, and fill out a Change of Address form at the post office. He got into his boat and headed into town.

 

TBC


	15. Chapter 15 - Robin

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 15 - Robin (rough draft 2)**

****

Bruce, with a bike trailer to carry his supplies, went first to pick up a form from the lobby of the closed post office. He was on his way to do some shopping when he heard a young, distressed voice suddenly cry out, "Leave me ALONE!"

 

Bruce paused. That one high voice was rising amidst a deeper murmuring commotion that he had, until now, been dismissing as background noise, just a group of young men hanging out.

 

"Fuck you!" the high voice screeched again, immediately followed by bursts of masculine laughter.

 

Bruce, already off his bike, gripped the guardrail and stared hard into the twilight shadows. The road he was on ran along a cliff's edge, though he could see a narrow path winding down the rocks. Without thinking twice, he started making his way down the footpath.

 

"NOOO!" the child screamed, sounding anguished. "GIVE IT BACK! GIVE IT BACK! GIVE IT BACK!"

 

Bruce practically dropped the last foot onto a ledge that finally gave him a view of what was happening a little lower down. A group of five young men, ranging in age from mid-teens to mid-twenties, were laughing as they shoved around a boy who looked about ten.

 

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?" Bruce boomed, standing straight and trying to project an air of authority.

 

The men all whipped back to look at him in surprise. Bruce recognized three of them, though he'd never seen the child before. "What's it to you, man?" one of the strangers challenged. The three locals shuffled uneasily.

 

"Paul, Zack, Darren," Bruce addressed them sternly. "How big a problem do you want to make this?"

 

"Whatever," Zack snapped. "They're gonna run outta beer before we get there; let's go."

 

He was only nineteen, but Bruce made no comment on the suggestion of underage drinking and stood aside to let him pass, meeting the teen's challenging look squarely. Paul mumbled something and followed, Darren on his heels.

 

One of the strangers muttered under his breath and then hurled the red garment he'd been holding down the cliff.

 

"NOOOO!" screamed the child, who'd been tense and silent up to this point. The man holding him threw him back against the rocks, laughing.

 

Bruce lost track of things then because he was so focused on grabbing the boy to stop him from flinging himself into the ocean after his sweater. "Hey, stop! _Stop_ , are you trying to kill yourself?!"

 

"GIVE IT BACK! GIVE IT BACK! LET ME FUCKING GO, I NEED MY HOODIE, I NEED MY--!"

 

"I'll get it!" Bruce bellowed, having to shout to be heard over the boy's frantic screams. "I'll get it! I'll get it for you! Stop!"

 

The boy stared at him wildly, panting. His tormentors were long gone by now.

 

"I'll get it for you," Bruce said again, squeezing the boy's shoulders a little in emphasis. "Just _stay here_. Do you understand me? I will fetch your hoodie and bring it to you, but you need to _stay here_. Tell me you understand."

 

"Get my hoodie or I'll fuckin' kill you," the boy hissed.

 

Time enough to lecture him later. Right now, Bruce had a mission.

 

The water wasn't deep enough here for him to safely dive, so he had to make his way down the hazardous path carefully enough to be safe but fast enough to stop the boy from screeching after him. Then he had to find the garment, which took almost as long as descending the cliff had, then make his way back up again.

 

The boy was on the path, practically sliding down it on his butt because of how steep it was. As soon as Bruce was near, the child seized a tuft of hardy weeds with one hand to anchor himself and reached out desperately with the other. "Give it back!!"

 

Bruce held it just out of reach. "I'd like to hear a 'Thank you,' first."

 

"FUCKING THANK YOU!! THANK FUCKING YOU; GIVE ME MY FUCKING HOODIE, YOU BASTARD!"

 

Bruce clenched his jaw, but started to hand over the garment. The boy seized it and ripped it out of his grasp, then scrambled to put it on, sobbing uncontrollably.

 

"Listen, son, _nothing_ is worth risking your life like that, especially a sweater that's easily replaceable--"

 

"Fuck...you...!" the boy wheezed through his tears, then somehow clawed his way up the cliff with one hand while clutching the front of his hoodie tight with the other. He had vanished by the time Bruce got back to the road.

 

Bruce sighed deeply, then tried to tidy himself up a bit, got back on his bike, and went shopping.

 

He had finished and was heading to the dock when he saw a couple of men bending over something on the ground behind a convenience store. It was dark by now and the lights at the front didn't reach the little alley, but Bruce thought he recognized Frank, the owner. "Frank?" he called, "Something wrong?"

 

"Maybe he can take it," the other man suggested, and Frank waved Bruce over.

 

On the ground was a raccoon trap, and inside was a very miserable-looking, half-grown seal pup.

 

"Something's been stealing things I leave out, breaking into dumpsters so other critters can get in," Frank explained. "Set out a trap for it, somehow caught a seal instead."

 

"I'll take it with me," Bruce offered. "I can release it on the island."

 

They extracted the pup from the trap and Bruce wrapped it in his jacket before nestling it in the trailer among his shopping bags. He had made it all the way home and was unwrapping the animal when he realized, with the help of the porch lights, that the creature was injured.

 

"Oh," he murmured, gently parting bloodied fur. The pup yelped and jerked, trying to bite him. "Ssshhh, ssshh, lad, I'm not going to hurt you. Are you hungry?"

 

He still had plenty of stored fish left over from...having to feed the last young occupant of his home. He fetched some and offered it to the little pup, who gulped it down.

 

Bruce a while fussing over the animal, and finally texted Alfred to let him know that he might not be returning home immediately after all. With the pup in a nest of blankets nearby, Bruce started researching - he already knew a lot about basic marine animal rehabilitation, but he'd never specifically looked up how to care for seals. By the time he leaned back in his chair, feeling slightly more confident than he had before, the pup had fallen asleep, snoring softly.

 

"Poor little guy," Bruce murmured, examining the creature without touching it. "I'll stay and look after you until you're back on your feet, all right?"

 

Over the next few days, Bruce doted on his new charge, whom he named Robin after the unusual coloring of the fur, and faithfully fed and tended to him. The pup could be skittish and aggressive at times, shying away or yelling or snapping at sudden movements, but he was extremely intelligent. (Not to mention _unbearably_ cute - Bruce nearly ran out of room on the memory card, he took so many pictures and videos of the pup making his adorably awkward wiggling way across the floor.) Robin showed what seemed to be clear disdain for simple or demeaning games like playing fetch, so Bruce devised ones that were more in line with what a human child might enjoy.

 

The pup was astonishingly good at Memory, poking at matched cards with his snout. When Bruce tried _Candy Land_ , which...the last orphaned sea creature he'd cared for had enjoyed, Robin barked and then knocked the board aside with his flipper as if to say, _"This game is stupid."_

 

 _'Don't anthropomorphize,'_ Bruce told himself. Though it wasn't as if Robin flipped board games in general - the seal watched intently for forty minutes when Bruce played _Monopoly_ with two pieces. The creature's intelligence seemed unnatural at times.

 

_click_

 

Robin was also inexplicably housetrained - he would go outside and do his business in the sand, covering it up like a cat, and would yell at Bruce as if he didn't want to be watched.

 

_click_

 

When the weather was too bad for him to go out, he ended up eliminating on the bathroom floor, then hid for a while afterwards as if he was ashamed even though that was the place accessible to him that was easiest to clean up.

 

The pup seemed intrigued by television, too, often watching it with Bruce. Bruce was interested to begin to note differences in the pup's reactions. Robin seemed tense when the news was on, casually interested when it was the old black-and-white films Bruce liked, and fascinated when it was animation.

 

_click_

 

Strange things began happening, often at night when Bruce was asleep. He started to notice things going missing, usually items of objective value that he didn't personally care about. He was utterly perplexed when, looking for a spare belt one afternoon to replace one that had broken, he discovered most of the lost items stashed in a backpack in a guest room closet he hadn't opened in almost a year.

 

Food would go missing, which he might have blamed on Robin except that the animal shouldn't be able to get into the sealed containers, especially when they were in the refrigerator or stored high. Yet Bruce kept finding empty food packages in the trash almost every morning.

 

_click_

 

"Well," Bruce said, checking Robin's scabbed-over injury one afternoon, "looks like you and I will be parting ways pretty soon." The injury was actually healed enough to release the animal into the sea, but Bruce was...stalling. It was nice to have someone else around the house again. "I'm glad to see you're getting better."

 

Robin made a whuffing sound and, as soon as he was released, wiggled his way to the basket of toy balls by the wall. Although he refused to play fetch, he enjoyed a modified form of soccer, which Bruce set up a camera to record (baby seal rush-wiggling to block a ball and then headbutt it back toward Bruce was _so - friggin' - cute_ , and the pup always got irritated whenever Bruce tried to leave his post to start recording).

 

One night, Bruce woke up to what sounded like burglars rummaging around downstairs. He glanced at the seal nest and found it empty, then grabbed the baseball bat by his bed and soundlessly made his way down the stairs.

 

Then he just stood in the kitchen entryway for a while, staring. The adolescent boy who was busily putting together a sandwich didn't notice him until he'd sat down at the island and was raising the food to his lips. Then he froze, mouth open, the sandwich an inch away.

 

The next moment, the boy had flung the food down and was clambering up into the kitchen sink, yanking frantically at the window latch.

 

Bruce propped the baseball bat against the wall. "Feel free to stay and eat your sandwich here."

 

The boy paused and glowered at Bruce over his shoulder.

 

"I know you," Bruce suddenly realized. "The hoodie boy."

 

"Yeah?" the boy snapped.

 

After a long pause, Bruce went to the refrigerator. He put together a sandwich of his own, then brought the plate to the opposite side of the island and sat down to eat it. When he pushed the other plate a little closer to the edge, the boy finally unfroze and warily crept closer.

 

"You got a name?" Bruce asked.

 

"Don't gotta tell you."

 

"Where's my seal? Did you hurt him?"

 

"Don' know nothin' 'bout a seal," the boy snarled with unwarranted ferocity.

 

"Because if you hurt Robin, I'm going to call the police. If you didn't, then you're welcome to stay the rest of the night. I have plenty of guest rooms."

 

"I didn't hurt your dumb seal! Stupid thing's probably hiding."

 

They finished their meal in silence. Bruce put the dishes in the sink, then led the way upstairs. The boy followed at a distance and shuffled wordlessly into the guest room Bruce showed him once the man stepped a prudent distance away from the door. "The bathroom's right here. I'll find a change of clothes and leave them outside your door. If Robin's all right, you're welcome to breakfast, too, and then we'll talk."

 

"Whatever." Hoodie Boy slammed the door shut with, again, wholly unnecessary violence. Bruce sighed deeply and went to look for his seal.

 

He got worried for a while because the animal wasn't anywhere he checked, but then, when he heard the quiet sound of a door shutting in the bedroom hall, he came back up the stairs and found the pup wiggling toward him. "Robin!" Bruce caught him up and hugged him close, breathing a little harder than usual. "Robin...are you all right? Are you hurt?"

 

He carried the seal into his room and set him down, checking him over. The pup seemed unusually docile yet tense, watching Bruce intently as he allowed himself to be manhandled.

 

"You're okay," Bruce murmured, more to himself than the seal. He picked up Robin and held him for a while. "You're okay, lad. Stay here where I can keep an eye on you, all right?" He settled the pup in his nest and then went to rig the door and windows with strings of trinkets that would clink together and warn him if anyone entered. Then he lay down on the bed, though he couldn't sleep for a while now that he finally had time to ponder what had just happened.

 

_'It's too far to swim; how did that boy make it all the way out here? Did he steal a boat? Where did Robin go? He couldn't possibly--'_

 

'Possibly.' Hah. Bruce had a mer son; Atlantis existed in real life and was populated by water-breathers; Bruce's best friend was a flying, laser-eyed, icy wind-exhaling alien; there was an Amazon warrior in D.C. and a red streak in Central City and a green flying person in Coast City.

 

_clickclickclickclick_

_'Oh my God.'_

 

Bruce got back out of bed and spent a couple of hours browsing folklore web sites. Then he leaned over the nest and stared at his little sleeping seal for a long time.

 

o.o.o

 

Although all the clues added up, Bruce didn't have any actual proof, and he had to keep up appearances in the meantime. "What's your name?" he asked the next time he caught Hoodie Boy raiding his kitchen at midnight. Actually, that was something he wanted to know regardless.

 

The kid glared, but finally mumbled through a mouthful of ice cream, "Jason."

 

 _Jason_. Good to know.

 

"You realize it would be irresponsible of me to make no attempt to get in touch with your legal guardian."

 

"Parents are dead, fosters tried to sell me for parts," Jason spat. "I'll just run away again if you turn me in, and this time I ain't goin' anywhere near _you_."

 

"All right, all right, easy, lad."

 

Jason squinted at him suspiciously, so Bruce let his gaze wander and casually took another bite of his own ice cream. "You really okay with street trash breaking inta your fancy beach mansion and stealing your sh-- your crap?" the boy finally asked.

 

"You are not trash," Bruce said firmly. "No child is, regardless of their parentage or life circumstances."

 

Jason eyed him in an assessing way.

 

"Obviously you're in a rough spot right now, and it's against my conscience to let you sleep on the streets. I have plenty of food, I have plenty of room in my house. You're welcome to stay here whenever you need."

 

Jason fidgeted, drawing shapes in the ice cream residue with his spoon.

 

"Do you like board games, Jason? Or cards?"

 

"I like books. Can't...read 'em, usually. But...." Jason's eyes slid toward the living room, where the built-in shelves were full of books.

 

"You can borrow any that you like, whenever you like."

 

"Why d'you live here all by yourself?" Jason asked suddenly. "Except your dumb seal. You don't _act_ like yer on vacation."

 

"I'm not. This is technically one of my family's vacation homes, but I moved here to live a few years ago. I needed the seclusion. I was actually right on the verge of moving back to Gotham when I met y-- when I found Robin. He was hurt, so I stayed to take care of him."

 

Jason fiddled with his spoon, staring intently at his empty bowl. "You're from Gotham?"

 

"Yes. Well, technically Bristol; but yes, Gotham."

 

Jason's eyes snapped to him. "Wait - wait, you're--?!"

 

Bruce suddenly realized that he'd never introduced himself. "My name is Bruce Wayne."

 

"Bruce _Way_ \--?!" Jason abruptly jumped off the chair, paced in an agitated circle, then stopped in front of Bruce. "What the hell ya doin' all the way out _here_?!"

 

"I like the ocean," Bruce said. "You ever heard of the Mermaid Man of Amnesty Bay?"

 

"What the hell?" Jason said, looking genuinely confused. If he recognized Bruce as a Wayne but didn't connect him to mer, then he must be a Gotham native but probably hadn't been in the city for a while.

 

"Never mind."

 

Jason rumpled his own hair. "I'm gonna go for a swim," he said distractedly, and hurried outside.

 

Bruce called and then chased after him, but the boy didn't stop. Bruce watched in concern as Jason dove into the waves and didn't surface. And didn't surface. And still continued not to surface.

 

 _..............click. 'Hopefully. Please, please, please, be what I think you are.'_ He still went and searched the water where he'd last seen Jason, but didn't find the boy. He went back inside and fretted until, at long last, Robin came wiggling wearily across the floor from the opposite side of the house.

 

"Hey, lad," Bruce murmured, scooping up the seal to cuddle. "There you are. Did you see Jay while you were out? Did you see Jaylad? Is he safe?" Robin leaned his head against Bruce's chest and huffed.

 

The anxiety didn't abate until late that night, when Bruce heard rummaging in the kitchen. He went downstairs, strode straight across the room without hesitating, and pulled Jason tightly into his arms.

 

"Let go, can't breathe," the boy complained, struggling.

 

Bruce loosened his grip slightly. "Don't just vanish into the ocean like that, I was worried about you."

 

"I c'n take care of myself. Let _go_."

 

Bruce held his shoulders and bent to look into his eyes. "I want you to be safe, Jason."

 

The boy was tense in his hands. "I'm _fine_. Let go or I'll bite ya!"

 

Bruce sighed and let go. "Get some sleep, Jay. I'm going to look for Robin, he's vanished again."

 

Jason pounded upstairs and Bruce waited a few minutes, then followed. When he reached his room, the seal was hunched in his nest, pretending to be asleep. Bruce kissed the soft fur on top of Robin's head and then went to sleep himself.

 

TBC

 

A/N: **Thanks to Breezy for the...hoodie design thing!** (It's probably not a spoiler to specify, but I'll hold off just in case there are some readers who haven't guessed yet. XD) Originally, I thought Jason just had to be wearing the hoodie, which was a little inconvenient, but she had the idea that what he really has to do is pull the hood over his head, and that idea worked a lot better. [She animated it and posted it](https://breezy-cheezy.tumblr.com/post/189044530543/a-rough-test-animation-as-i-tried-out-some), though beware of major spoilers for stuff that happens later in the fic!


	16. Chapter 16 - After Robin

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 16 - After Robin (rough draft 2)**

 

Robin's injury was fully healed and Bruce had no excuse to keep procrastinating. "All right, lad. I suppose today's the day. Let's get you some breakfast and then send you...back home."

 

The seal gulped down his fish and, when Bruce carried him outside and set him down on the wet sand, crawled into the waves and vanished without fanfare. Bruce sat down and waited, and after a while, Jason climbed over some rocks and came trekking toward him.

 

"Why the long face?" the boy asked, sitting down about a foot away.

 

"I released Robin," Bruce murmured. "He's gone now."

 

Jason fiddled with his shoes and mumbled, "Bet he's grateful you took care of him when he was hurt an' alone."

 

Bruce smiled, still looking out at the sea. "I hope he finds his family."

 

"Dumb pup prob'ly doesn't have a family, or they don't want 'im. No one wants ugly half-breeds."

 

"Robin was not ugly," Bruce objected. "He was very sweet and precious."

 

Jason fidgeted, then asked, blushing as he continued to stare at the sand, "What did you like about Robin?"

 

Bruce hid a smile. "Well, he was adorable, but I don't think you want to hear that." Sure enough, Jason wrinkled his nose in distaste. "And he was _so_ smart; so, so smart."

 

"Fer a dumb animal," Jason mumbled.

 

"He was smart, _period_. Sometimes I'd experiment, trying to trick him, but he saw through me every single time."

 

The corner of Jason's mouth quirked in amusement.

 

"Even when he wouldn't do what I said, I could tell it was because he didn't want to, not because he didn't understand what I wanted. He was-- I could just tell. His eyes. You'd look into his eyes and it really was like seeing a person looking back. He _was_ a person." Bruce rested his forehead in his hand and sighed. "I miss him...." _'And Dick. God, I miss Dick so much....'_

 

Jason edged closer. "You're a lonely old man, huh."

 

"A lonely _young_ man," Bruce huffed. "I'm not even 30 yet."

 

Jason fidgeted. "Well. Your guest room's not so bad, and I like your books. I'm not _cute_ , but maybe I c'n...hang around. For a while. Keep you company since you lost your dumb seal." He finally looked directly at Bruce, glaring. " 'S long as you're not a creep, got it?"

 

Bruce smiled. "Got it." He rose to his feet and held out a hand, but Jason stood up without taking it. "I assume you're going to stick around for lunch later. You have anything in particular in mind?"

 

"Yeah, but you have to let me cook. Your cooking sucks."

 

"All right, Jay."

 

o.o.o

 

Their routine now was a little different, since Jason preferred to curl up in the easy chair by the window with a stack of books for hours rather than play games like Robin had. Since this gave Bruce more free time, he had to figure out what to do with it when he wasn't training or reading parenting books.

 

They started homeschooling on week days, which Jason took to more readily than Bruce expected. Of course the boy was behind grade level, but he was a quick learner and worked steadily to catch up. Bruce would teach him for a few hours in the morning, let him work quietly on his own, then grade his work while Jason read books, and finish up by helping Jason fix any mistakes he'd made.

 

In the afternoon, they'd go out for a run on the beach or swimming (Jason usually preferred the ocean to the pool) or sailing. The times they went fishing, Bruce never questioned why Jason would shut himself in the cabin on the way back to shore, or why their catch always seemed significantly lighter when it was unloaded than it had been back on the boat.

 

They'd go into town at least once a week for supplies and to check the mail. Jason was not the people person Dick had been - instead of befriending the locals, he mostly kept quiet and stuck close to Bruce. A few people who recognized him pulled Bruce aside to express their concerns, but the man assured them that he knew Jason's history of stealing and trespassing, and that he'd chosen to give the boy a home specifically to keep him off the street, safe, and provided for.

 

"What do you think of going to school in town?" Bruce asked once. Though Jason certainly had issues, Bruce was not nearly as worried about the boy as he'd been about his blue-haired, slimy-skinned, fish-tailed son.

 

"No way."

 

"You'd get to be around other kids your own age." Bruce was a little worried that Jason, isolated on the island with only his guardian for company, was not getting properly socialized.

 

"Teenagers were the ones who'd hurt me most when I was-- when I didn't have a house."

 

Bruce swallowed and dropped the issue.

 

o.o.o

 

At one point, Bruce quietly messaged his allies on the political front, strongly suggesting that they alter their goal a little to secure rights for _all_ sea people, not just mer specifically. It didn't change much, since fully humanoid metas in general were seeking legal confirmation of their status as people (although they were usually treated better than their less human-looking fellows, they were not yet officially protected). Still, Bruce wanted to make absolutely certain that Jason would be covered by any new laws that were passed. When he brought it up in a group vidchat with Clark and the others, Arthur looked at him knowingly and laughed.

 

o.o.o

 

"Jason, give me your socks, I'm about to start a load of laundry."

 

"What?! No!"

 

Bruce blinked at the unexpected resistance. "Jay, your socks are filthy, I can see how brown the bottoms are from here."

 

"I'll go change," Jason said, jumping to his feet and pounding up the stairs, ignoring Bruce calling after him. Bruce sighed and followed, finding Jason rummaging frantically through various drawers.

 

"That's why I'm doing laundry, Jay, because you're completely out of clean socks," he said patiently.

 

"Fine, then wash my socks, I'll change afterward!!"

 

"If you give me the ones you have on now, I can wash them, too. They'll barely make a difference to the load."

 

"Leave my socks the fuck alone!!"

 

Bruce stared, nonplussed by the boy's fury and panic over such a trivial matter. "...What if I give you a pair of my own clean socks to wear while I'm washing yours?"

 

"Fine! FINE! Get the fuck out of my room!!"

 

Jason shut himself in after that. He cracked the door just enough to hurl his dirty socks into the hall, and Bruce had to leave the clean ones on the floor. Then he went down to the laundry room, and as he was loading the washing machine and starting a cycle, he thought hard, going back over all the time he'd known Jason. He finally concluded that he did not have a single memory of seeing the boy's bare feet. Jay's obsession with water shoes on the beach wasn't because he simply liked them, it was because he had something to hide.

 

Bruce added the matter to his research list.

 

o.o.o

 

"Robin," Bruce deliberately said one night at dinner, "could you pass the salt, please?"

 

Jason, his mouth full of macaroni and cheese, grunted and did so, eyes still intent on his food. Bruce had counted all the way to 31 before the boy's head suddenly shot up. "Wait, what?! What'dja call me?!"

 

"Jason?" Bruce said, feigning confusion.

 

Jason narrowed his eyes. Bruce casually lowered his own gaze and took another bite. "...You called me Robin."

 

"Did I?"

 

"You called me Robin! I'm not a fuckin' seal, don't call me Robin!!"

 

"I'm sorry, Jay, it just slipped out. I miss him, you know? I was so used to talking to him before. I apologize."

 

Jason glared at him suspiciously for a long moment. "I'm not a seal."

 

Bruce smiled. "Well, you certainly don't look like one right now."

 

"I'm human! I'm a human being, okay?!"

 

"Yes, Jay, of course you are. You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you."

 

"Don't be condescending," Jason grumbled, lowering his head almost completely down to his bowl and hugging it with one arm as he scooped another bite of macaroni into his mouth.

 

Bruce ruffled his hair, feeling affectionate but also a little more sad than he expected to.

 

o.o.o

 

When Jason was late coming down for breakfast one morning, Bruce went to check on him and was concerned to find the boy still huddled in bed, breathing noisily, forehead hot to the touch. "Oh no, Jay...."

 

Bruce checked the Internet to find out how to take care of a sick human child, hoping that the instructions were the same even if the child wasn't completely human.

 

He brought soup and bottles of juice and water and medicine, and once Jason seemed to be resting a little easier, he hesitated and took hold of the edge of the hoodie. Jason had never once taken it off in Bruce's presence the entire time they'd been living together, and Bruce worried for a minute that removing it might hurt the boy. Then he remembered that Jason had been without it once, the time they'd met on the cliff, and had seemed perfectly fine physically. The poor thing had to be baking hot now, sweating and feverish while encased in a fairly thick garment.

 

Bruce carefully removed the hoodie, shushing and crooning when Jason moaned in his sleep. "It's all right, Jay, I'll keep it right here for you, it's not going anywhere. Hush, Robin, you're safe; you're safe, lad...."

 

Jason whimpered and went still. Bruce patted him in reassurance and then, since he might not ever have another chance, turned his attention to the hoodie to study it. It seemed like a perfectly ordinary garment - the only unusual things about it were that it didn't have a tag like store-bought clothes did, and despite the fact that Jason wore it 24/7 and never, to Bruce's knowledge, washed it, it looked clean and brand-new.

 

Smiling a little in awe, Bruce put a basket on the bedside table and, although not good at folding clothes, did his best to carefully fold the sweater and set it in the basket, within arm's reach of the boy it belonged to. He peered at Jason again. The boy was in a deep, exhausted sleep, so Bruce very lightly brushed his fingers through Jason's curly locks and then headed downstairs to make some lunch for himself.

 

Hours later, he was lying on the divan in Jason's room, scrolling through the news on his phone. He was so absorbed that he didn't notice anything amiss until a fist seized his hair and yanked his head back, the edge of a steak knife pressing into his neck.

 

"Gimme back my hoodie," Jason snarled.

 

"Jay," Bruce tried to say, rolling his eyes to the side to look because he didn't dare move his head.

 

Jason looked unsteady and a little glassy-eyed, beads of sweat on his forehead. His skin was still warm with fever and his expression burned with fury. "Give me my hoodie, you _bastard_."

 

Bruce couldn't speak without risking injury, so he pointed toward the bedside table.

 

"SHOW ME!" Jason screamed, giving Bruce's head a shake so that the serrated blade dragged through skin.

 

Bruce very carefully got off the divan, on his knees because Jason's grip didn't allow him enough height to stand. Blood started to trickle down his neck as he cautiously shuffled toward the nightstand.

 

"Yer all th' fuckin' _same_ ," Jason raged. "Fin'lly saw your chance, huh? _Bastard_. I never should've fucking trusted you, _never_ , you're _all the fucking same_ , think you can--"

 

Bruce desperately banged his fist against the nightstand, causing the basket on top to waver.

 

Jason stared at the pool of red fabric inside. "What...?"

 

The hand holding the knife drooped, and Bruce said, "It's been there the whole time, Jay. I would never take it from you, never--"

 

Jason let out a sob and seized the hoodie with one hand, clutching it close as he tucked the knife away. He collapsed to the floor and crawled away, crying, then struggled to put on the sweater.

 

"Jason--"

 

"Don't touch me!!" the boy screamed. "Don't touch me! Stay the fuck away from me!" He was sobbing and weak as he worked, and finally managed to get both arms into the sleeves, though he couldn't pull it over his head. Then he just wept, rocking a little as his fists bunched in the red fabric and pressed it tight to his heart. "Don't take...my hoodie...leave me alone...leave me...alone...don't touch me...!"

 

Bruce went to the bathroom to bandage his neck, then returned. When Jason saw him coming, he started pushing himself frantically across the floor with his feet, looking terrified, hands still anchored in the hoodie. "Don't-- Don't, I didn't--! Please don't! NO!" He ducked hard when Bruce bent over him, but looked a little bewildered when Bruce went for his pocket and took out the knife. Then, seeing a large, angry man looming over him with a weapon, he wailed and tried to cover his head without letting go of the hoodie.

 

"I'm locking up all the blades in this house," Bruce snapped. "From now on, if you have a problem, we will _talk_. Threatening people with knives is NOT acceptable, Jason. Do you understand me?"

 

"Fuck you!"

 

"I SAID 'DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME.' "

 

Jason flinched, ducking his head again.

 

"Jason. I'm not going to hit you. I will never lay a violent hand on you. But I expect you to rein in your own violence as well; _do you understand me_."

 

"I'm sorry," Jason whimpered.

 

"I didn't ask for an apology, I asked for acceptance of house rules. No violence against people, including animals."

 

Jason was gasping for breath now. Bruce finally softened, setting the knife aside. "Jay." He knelt, reached out to rest a hand on Jason's back, then thought better of it and retracted his hand without touching the boy. "Jason. Please look at me."

 

Jason buried his face in the hoodie and covered his head with one arm, awkwardly because it was still in the sleeve of a garment he wasn't actually wearing.

 

Bruce closed his eyes briefly, then sat back and waited.

 

It took a long time, but Jason's crying finally faded to sniffles. He slowly straightened up, still clutching the hoodie. He carefully scooted back against the side of the bed, then watched Bruce with anguished eyes, sweater clutched to his front, knees up protectively.

 

Still Bruce waited.

 

"I'm sorry," Jason finally ventured.

 

"For what?"

 

"..............Holdin' a knife on you......" Jason mumbled.

 

"I'm still locking up the blades. And you never answered me before. If you have a problem with me, we're going to talk it out. Right, Jason?"

 

Jason scowled and fidgeted, but finally mumbled at the floor, "Yeah."

 

Bruce nodded and got up. "Now, let's get you back into bed."

 

Jason curled in on himself. "Don't take my hoodie."

 

"Jason, have I _ever_ taken your hoodie away from you?"

 

"Y-- You just did...!"

 

"I might have taken it off your body, but then where did I put it, Jason?"

 

Jason glanced at the nightstand and then glared at his socked feet.

 

"It was right next to you. I just wanted to make you a little more comfortable--"

 

"I'm COMFORTABLE with my hoodie fuckin' ON!" Jason yelled.

 

"All right, maybe I made a mistake. But I didn't take your hoodie away from you, Jason."

 

"You lookin' fer a fuckin' 'pology?!"

 

"That's not necessary, but it would be appreciated."

 

Jason blinked in surprise.

 

"A sincere apology, not just appeasement because you mistakenly thought I might hurt you."

 

"...What's wrong with you, you weirdo?!" Jason exclaimed.

 

Bruce waited.

 

Jason finally looked down. After a long moment, he started crying again. Finally, sniffling, he said, "My mom gave this to me. It's all I have left of her, and you-- I _thought_ you took it away an'...an' I was too dumb to see it sittin' right next to me, so...sorry for thinking...you took it...when you didn't."

 

"Thank you, Jason. I appreciate your apology."

 

The boy's cheeks reddened as he continued staring at the floor.

 

"You're not dumb, though. You're sick and upset; it was an honest mistake. Don't call yourself names."

 

"...."

 

"Jay, I will not touch your hoodie, but I'm going to come over there and put my hands under your arms so I can help you up, all right?"

 

"No!" Jason scrambled to stand up, but he was weak and hampered by the garment entangling his arms. He flinched at Bruce's touch, but when the man helped him into bed and tugged the blanket up over his legs and smoothed his hair out of his face, he relaxed a little.

 

"You're okay, Jay," Bruce murmured. "You're safe. You will always be safe in my home."

 

Jason looked up at him, more tears leaking slowly down his face. "I screwed up this time, but 'f you really do take my hoodie, then...then I'll kill you. Not gonna lie belly-up fer someone hurtin' me for real."

 

"No killing. House rules. But when you feel better, Jay, I can teach you some self-defense techniques."

 

Jason frowned a little and raised his head. "What?"

 

"I'll teach you how to defend yourself, if you want. I want you to feel safe, Jay."

 

Jason lay there for a while, gazing at him. Then he swallowed and said, "House rules. Don't touch my hoodie."

 

"All right. I'm sorry for touching it this time. I thought it was making you too hot while you were trying to sleep and fight off this illness."

 

" 'M not too hot."

 

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "You're visibly sweating."

 

"Maybe I like being too hot."

 

Bruce chuckled. "Oh, kiddo...."

 

Jason swallowed again. "I'm...thirsty...."

 

"Do you want some soup?"

 

"Yeah! Um, yes, please."

 

"All right. Drink some juice while I go warm it up."

 

Just before he left, Bruce paused and leaned to cup his hand against the side of the boy's head. "I want you to be happy, Jay."

 

"Why?"

 

"I care about you, and I worry about you. Seeing you angry or frightened or sad makes _me_ sad."

 

"Weirdo."

 

Bruce smiled and kissed the top of his head, then headed down to the kitchen.

 

TBC


	17. Chapter 17 - The Boys

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 17 - The Boys (rough draft 2)**

 

Bruce was helping Jason build a model of the Alamo when a loud clanging sound rang out, familiar to Bruce but making Jason jump like a startled cat. "What the fu--?!"

 

"It's all right," Bruce chuckled. "She's a friend."

 

Jason hid behind the door while Bruce walked out to meet Diana. She smiled and greeted him, then descended to the ground and turned to the man in green and black who was floating down to join her. "I know you two have seen each other over the video communications, but I am pleased to introduce you in person."

 

"Wayne," the Green Lantern acknowledged with a nod.

 

"Jordan."

 

The Lantern did a double-take. "What?! Uh, who's, uh, who's Jordan?"

 

"I was curious. Looked up relevant celestial events and matched them to potential candidates. Figured Hal Jordan made the most sense."

 

Hal looked at Diana and said indignantly, pointing a dramatic finger at Bruce, "Are you sure we can trust this creep?!"

 

"I would trust him with my life," Diana declared. Bruce was touched. "Bruce, we have come to ask for your advice on a certain matter, but I confess I have also been interested in meeting your new child."

 

Bruce, always happy to show off his sons, smiled and turned to the doorway. "Jay, she knows you're in there," he called. "Don't worry, they don't bite. And if they do, I'll protect you."

 

The door slammed open. "Who asked you?!" Jason shouted, and stormed down the front walk. However, as soon as he reached his guardian, he took one look at the Amazon and the ring-bearer and edged behind Bruce, glaring out from under the man's arm.

 

"This is Jason," Bruce said proudly. "He's staying with me for a while."

 

" 'Sup, champ," Jordan said, inclining his head.

 

Diana's smile was broad and warm. "Hello, little one. It is an honor to meet you."

 

"Are you...are you Wonder Woman?" Jason ventured, taking in her outfit and the golden lasso coiled at her hip.

 

"I am, indeed."

 

Jason knocked his fist against Bruce's back and hissed, "Bruce, how th' _fuck_ d'you know _Wonder Woman_?"

 

"She's a friend. We work together sometimes, long-distance." He invited the guests in and they got to work in the living room, spreading out papers and Bruce's laptop on the coffee table and floor. Jason watched the entire time from the entryway, even starting to tiptoe in after a while to wordlessly set a plate of cookies and then a soda and then a seat cushion near Diana.

 

The fourth time he crept toward her, this time very carefully bearing a cup of coffee, she turned to face him, and he froze. "I thank you for your hospitality, young Man."

 

"Y-You're welcome," he stammered. "I d-don't know if you like coffee, but, um, I, you didn't like the soda, so I thought, maybe--"

 

"Thank you," she said graciously, and took the mug out of his hands.

 

"Do you want sugar?!" he burst out as she raised it to her lips. "Or cream, or, or anything else? Can I get you anything else? You can have. Anything."

 

Diana smiled, and Bruce was trying very hard not to laugh. "This will suffice." She took a sip. "It is very good."

 

Jason looked relieved.

 

"Jay," Bruce said, "you can hang out in here with us if you want."

 

"I don't want to bother, to get in the way, um--"

 

"I could use a cup of coffee, too," Jordan said.

 

Jason glared contemptuously at him. "I'm not your servant. There's still some in the coffeepot; get it yourself."

 

"What?!"

 

"Jay," Bruce scolded mildly, "both of them are guests, not just Diana."

 

Jason sulkily stood up, then looked surprised when Diana rose to her feet as well. "I will assist you, little one."

 

"Oh, n-no, you don't have to, I'll get it, I know you're busy--!"

 

"It's quite all right, Jason." She set a hand on his shoulder, and he looked a little dazed.

 

They disappeared into the kitchen together, and Jordan raised an eyebrow at Bruce. "He knows he's way too young for her, right?"

 

"Jordan," Bruce snapped, "it's hero-worship, not a crush." _'Please, please, please be hero-worship....'_

 

When the others came back in, Diana with a cup of coffee for the Lantern, Jason ran and slid to the ground by Bruce and whispered excitedly in his ear, "She signed a paper plate for me! She freaking signed it, Bruce; she is _so freaking cool_!"

 

When the visitors finally got up to leave, Bruce and Jason accompanied them outside. Diana faced Jason and crossed her arm over her chest. "It was very good to meet you, Jason," she said, inclining her head

 

"Likewise, Wonder Woman," Jason said solemnly, copying the gesture and actually bowing.

 

"Tell Clark hi for me," Bruce said.

 

"We will."

 

Jordan saluted, then the two visitors rose into the air and flew away.

 

"Aaaahhh!" Jason yelled, and started jumping around in excitement. "Wonder Woman! Freaking WONDER FREAKING WOMAN! Bruce, how does a dork like you know the coolest person on Earth?! HOW?!"

 

Bruce chuckled. "If you're this excited about meeting Wonder Woman, I wonder what you'll make of Aquaman and Superman."

 

"Aqua--?! WHAT?! You know--?! Can I meet him?! Please please please, Bruce, can I meet Aquaman?!"

 

"He might have to find a day to fit you in, but sure."

 

o.o.o

 

The next day, Bruce was standing in the kitchen entryway, sipping at a cup of coffee, watching Jason read in his favorite chair, thinking how cute and precious he was, and hoping Jay wouldn't notice and yell at him before he'd had his fill of drinking in the sight of a child he cared about being safe and relaxed and happy. Since Jason liked to be near windows, the sun-bathed ocean formed a beautiful background behind him.

 

So Bruce was looking directly at that view when something blue, black, and a little sparkly in the sunlight crawled out of the waves and began hauling itself up the beach.

 

Bruce ducked back into the kitchen, nearly spilling his coffee, pressing a hand to his mouth in shock. In a daze, he set down the coffee and then covered his face with both hands, sliding to the floor as tears stung his eyes and then spilled down his cheeks.

 

He'd thought.... He'd thought Dick was gone forever. Dick was-- home now, where he'd always been meant to be; Atlantis, what, what was he _doing_ here, oh God was something wrong, had the city been attacked, was he hurt--?!

 

Bruce stumbled to his feet and made it back to the kitchen entryway just as the front door banged open.

 

" _SCREEEEE_!"

 

Jason leaped out of the chair in his startled-cat way. "Holy _sh_ \--!!"

 

"B!" Dick screamed wrathfully, drawing out the letter so it sounded like "Beeeeee!" He seized a scooter board from the box that was still by the door and hauled himself onto it. Then his eyes snapped to Jason. "WHO TH' HELL 'RE YOU?!"

 

"What the _fuck_ this is a HUMAN HOUSE you _freaking moron_ do you WANT to get trafficked?!" Jason whisper-yelled frantically. He was running toward Dick, making wild shooing motions, but the alarmed mer hastily rolled out of reach. "And shut up, he'll hear you, he's probably right outside!"

 

"Who _are_ you?!"

 

"Who are YOU?! How can you freaking _talk_?!"

 

"He replaced me," Dick concluded in disbelief. Bruce, frozen in the entry with the disorientation of seeing both his sea children in the same room, seeing how furious Dick was and how terrified Jason apparently was of him still, couldn't have interrupted if he'd tried. "Oh, RIGHT, got tired of fish boy an' threw 'im away, wanted new baby so got himself li'l baby seal; _fuck_ you, B!"

 

"Will you _move_?" Jason demanded, lunging at him again, but Dick swiftly braced himself on his hands so he could swipe Jason aside with his tail, then thudded back onto the scooter.

 

The mer dismissively looked away and pulled himself across the floor. "B--!" He finally caught sight of Bruce and his eyes narrowed in a glare.

 

"Dick," Bruce said weakly.

 

Dick raised his hands to sign, but Jason darted in front of him with his arms spread protectively. "Don't you TOUCH him!" the younger boy shouted. "Leave him alone! I'll make him leave, just don't hurt--!"

 

Dick impatiently shoved him aside and dragged himself closer to Bruce. "You really do hate me!"

 

"Dickie, why would you _think_ that?" Bruce asked, dropping to his knees and reaching out.

 

Dick slapped his hands aside. "You LEFT ME!" He started to sign furiously. _"You left me! Then JUST when I decided maybe you didn't actually hate me and just thought I'd be happier with other mer--"_

"Dickie, slow down, I can't--"

 

_"--I come back and you have a SEAL son instead of me! You don't care about ME, you just want a cute and helpless sea baby, when you get tired of it you throw it away and get a new little one to--"_

 

"RICHARD." A corner of Bruce's mind was very interested to get confirmation of his suspicions about Jason, but of course there were more pressing matters to focus on at the moment. "I thought I would _die_ when I lost you."

 

_"You didn't lose me, you LEFT--!"_

 

"I left my _heart_ in Atlantis that day! I missed you every single day, so much it _hurt_! I waited for you to come back even though I _knew_ you had no reason to return to me, I tried to figure out what to _do_ with my life now that my son was gone, it was like you had _died_ and I wanted to die, too!"

 

Dick looked aghast and incredulous. _"I **WASN'T DEAD**! You left me! YOU left ME!"_

 

"In _Atlantis_ , Dick. Your _home_. Your people--"

 

" _THIS_ IS MY HOME!!" Dick screamed out loud.

 

There was a long silence. Then Dick's face crumpled and he burst into tears, sagging to hide his face in his arms.

 

Bruce, tears seeping down his own face, pulled his son into his arms and held him. "You were a prisoner," he whispered. "I had to set you free."

 

"You did!" Dick wailed. His hands shook as he resumed signing. _"You took me from the zoo! Free! When I live here in this house by the ocean with you, I AM free, I'm happy! Why did you ruin it?!"_

 

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry, Dickie, I'm so sorry, I made a mistake, I didn't realize you saw it that way...."

 

After holding each other for a long time, their weeping finally died down and Dick pulled back to glare at Bruce with still-wet eyes. "Seal," he demanded.

 

Bruce sighed. "He was hurt. I couldn't just--" He broke off when he looked up and realized that Jason was perched on the sill, as if ready to jump out the open window and flee at a moment's notice. He was watching Bruce and Dick with huge, shocked, bewildered eyes. "Jay. Um. This is my son, Dick. Dick, this is Jason, he's been living here for a while."

 

"Hi," Dick said sourly.

 

Jason made a wild gesture. "How?! What is--?! How! WHAT! He's a _fish_ , how did this _happen_?!?!"

 

"Er...I actually wrote a book, that will probably be easier than-- Oh! Dick, I...I wrote a book." Bruce felt his face heating up. "About you."

 

Dick stared at him. "Huh?!"

 

Bruce sighed and finally peeled his arms off of the mer so he could stand up. "Put on a sleeve," he said as he headed for the locked closet where he hid several copies of _The Boy in the Fish Tank_.

 

When he came back, Jason was crouched on the floor, watching in fascination as Dick pulled a plastic sleeve over his tail. "So I don't dry out," the mer explained. "Don't have to keep dipping myself in the pool all the time. If I'm careful, I can make it through a whole day of school without having to refresh."

 

"You go to _school_?! With people?!"

 

Dick laughed. "Lots of people." He turned to Bruce. "B! I mean, Dad! Where's my phone, I want to call my friends!"

 

"Before or after you look at the book?" Bruce asked, trying not to feel offended.

 

Dick shrugged a shoulder. "I dunno. After, I guess."

 

Bruce handed a copy to Jason, who immediately _ran_ with it to his reading chair and practically slammed it open. Dick, on the other hand, read a page and a half, asked Bruce to read aloud to him, politely listened to a few more pages, then took the book back and rifled through it until he saw the section of photos in the middle. He went through the pictures with interest, then tossed the book aside and asked for his phone again.

 

Bruce sighed. "You don't mind that I wrote a book about you? It's not distributed, only Clark and Alfred and my parents have even read it. I--"

 

"Oooohh, C'ark, I want to call him, too!"

 

After being informed of the cover story, Dick spent the next several hours on the phone, filling the house with his laughter and eager chattering. Jason spent those same hours intently reading, always in a different contorted teenage-boy pose every time Bruce checked on him, his eyes constantly glued to the page. "Jay, look up and rest your eyes," Bruce had to remind him every so often.

 

When Dick finally finished on the phone, he went out to the pool, yelled for Bruce to come clean it, helped Bruce do so, then went for a short nostalgia swim. Then he cuddled with Bruce on the couch while they watched a Disney movie, and Bruce felt like he'd never been happier in his life.

 

They all ate dinner in the living room because Dick, who'd missed TV while in Atlantis, wanted to watch another movie, and Jason was still engrossed in the book and Bruce didn't have the heart to enforce his 'no reading at the table' rule tonight.

 

Just like old times, Dick wanted to sleep in the pool, and Bruce set up his cot and bedding so they'd be near each other. They'd had their nightly cuddle and Dick was back in the water, drifting, Bruce sleepily watching the stars on his cot, when Jason came out, apparently having finished the book. He hesitated, then sat down on the ground by the cot and looked at Bruce. Dick swam over and rested his arms on the edge of the pool, leaning his head against them to watch.

 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jason demanded.

 

Bruce had missed Dick so much that every thought or mention of him hurt, so he'd actively avoided thinking about his lost son. "I was...not in the best frame of mind when we met. And then I just got so busy, I.... I don't know. It was a strange thing to mention out of the blue. And all those things I talked about in the book about why I work so hard to keep Dick a secret, they still apply."

 

Jason sighed deeply. "I wish you'd told me. Then maybe I would've...."

 

"Maybe you would have what, Jay?" Bruce prompted after a moment.

 

"Nothing," Jason muttered, hugging his knees and resting his chin on them.

 

The position exposed his hood a little more than usual. Bruce finally gave in to temptation and grasped the edge of the hood, tugging it up over Jason's head. The boy gasped and jerked, but it was too late; Bruce caught a glimpse of his frantic eyes before the boy sank down into a small, furry shape flailing on top of a pile of suddenly empty shorts, underwear, and socks.

 

The seal frantically swiped at its face with its flippers, then there was Jason again, scrambling back so quickly that he fell in the pool. Dick briefly closed his eyes but made no move to avoid the splash.

 

"Jay, put it back, I wanted a picture of you two together," Bruce said, sitting up now as he tapped the camera app on his phone.

 

"YOU _KNEW_?!?!" Jason shrieked from the center of the pool.

 

"Yes, I did," Bruce said, snapping a photo that technically had both his sons in it, though they were nowhere near each other and Jason's figure was mostly obscured by motion blurs and splashing water.

 

"WHAT THE--?! HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN?! WHAT?! HOW!"

 

"Jay, calm down. I've suspected almost since the beginning, and was all but certain the first night I found you in my kitchen."

 

Jason stared at him, mouth hanging open.

 

"Jay, come here," Dick called, hoisting himself out of the pool. "Picture time." He struck one of his hammy poses. God, Bruce had missed this ridiculous kid so _much_....

 

"WHADDAYA MEAN YOU KNEW THE WHOLE TIME?!"

 

"Jason, I have a _fish boy_ for a _son_. Do you think I _care_ that my second kid is a seal sometimes?"

 

"Wha...?!" Jason was clutching his hoodie, still staring at Bruce in utter shock. "Wh-Why didn't you sell me?! Or take my-- It's not TRUE, it's not fuckin' true, you try ta sell me you ain't gettin' NOTHING, no one pays _shit_ fer selkie parts, so don't get any ideas--!"

 

"What the hell," Bruce bellowed back, "have I EVER fucking done to make you think I would hurt you, Jason Wayne?"

 

There was a long pause. "...Nothing," Jason finally whimpered, then broke down in tears.

 

Dick slipped into the pool, swam to Jason, and gently tugged the younger boy to the side of the pool, handing him up to Bruce. Bruce wrapped Jason in a towel (the hoodie, though wet like skin, was not waterlogged like real fabric would be). Bruce and Dick put their arms around the child and held him as he cried.

 

"My n-name," Jason finally gasped out, rubbing fiercely at his eyes, " 's Jason _Todd_ , not Wayne."

 

Bruce mentally filed away the new information. "If your parents are really dead, then you _will_ be a Wayne in the eyes of the law, if you let me," he murmured. "You already are in spirit, as far as I'm concerned."

 

Jason gasped out fresh tears.

 

"Jaylad, what happened to you? _Did_ anyone ever try to sell you?" Bruce asked, remembering a horrific comment Jason had made once and praying it had been an exaggeration.

 

"They DID sell me," Jason snarled. "Found out I'm a...'m a seal.... Fuckin' sold me ta traffickers. Kept us in a warehouse, selkies in cages with our, our pelts locked up, mer in tanks.... Some 'f us were gonna be slaves, others they were gonna c-cut up for parts, for _fucking_ superstitious IDIOTS who think we can cure them or give good luck or whatever _shit_ they're too fuckin' lazy t' do _actual work_ for."

 

Jason swallowed hard. Bruce had his jaw clenched; Dick was trembling.

 

"One...one n-night, th' fish started singing, both th' guards came in.... Idiots thought they'd act'lly get t' fuck some fish; mer drowned 'em instead. Took their keys and threw 'em to us. We got out, got our pelts.... Some of 'em just ran, but me and some others, we got th' fish out, carried 'em to the dock and threw 'em in the harbor.... Couldn' make sure they got away 'cause alarms were goin' off; I put on m' hood and _swam_...I swam...fuckin' swam for my fuckin' life...." Jason was sobbing again. Bruce couldn't hold him any tighter than he already was, so he rested his cheek against the boy's hair and hummed.

 

"Sing, Dad," Dick whimpered. "Please."

 

Bruce sang softly until they'd all calmed down. Jason slumped against him, exhausted, and Dick was curled in the crook of his arm by now. "Bruce," Jason sighed wearily, "don't hurt me."

 

"Never Jaylad," Bruce murmured, kissing the top of his head. "Never."

 

Jason drew in a deep, shaky breath. "Bruce?"

 

"Yes?"

 

Blue eyes turned up to him. "Will you...will you help me find my mom?"

 

Bruce blinked. "She's still alive?"

 

Jason hunched in and fidgeted again. "My...my dad and my m-- stepmom, I guess...Catherine...they're dead. Thought Catherine was my mom even after she died, then...foun' out she wasn't.... My mom--" Jason drew in a breath. "Her name starts with 'S.' Not 'C.' So...she's the one-- That's why--" He briefly closed his eyes. "Catherine helped me hide, but she wasn't a seal like me, 'n' now I know why. My real mom was the seal. I...I have to meet her. Was...lookin' for Aquaman, going through coast towns.... C'n you help me find my mom, Bruce? Please?"

 

"Of course, Jay," Bruce said, trying to fight the sudden aching sadness he felt at the thought of losing his younger son. "Of course."

 

The boy exhaled in relief. "Okay."

 

Once the boys were asleep, Dick in the pool and Jason wrapped in blankets on the cot, Bruce pulled out his phone. Arthur needed to know about the traffickers, and to look into any selkies who might have left a half-breed child in Gotham years ago.

 

TBC

 

A/N: I adored the first two "How to Train Your Dragon" movies (and the _Gift of the Night Fury_ short film). They were my favorite movies of all time. And then the third film, _The Hidden World_ , came along and I'd really been looking forward to it. But it turned out to be ABSOLUTE GARBAGE, I was _infuriated_ by how badly it wrecked everything I'd loved about HTTYD. One of the worst things about THW was that it portrayed Hiccup & Toothless's relationship as that of a captor and his prisoner. That is _completely_ inaccurate; Hiccup's goal, almost from the moment he met Toothless, was to empower that dragon to reclaim his freedom, and he didn't stop trying right up until the conclusion of GotNF, where Toothless made it crystal clear that he's with Hiccup because he _chooses_ to be. (Seriously, GotNF had the same theme as THW, but presented it a hundred times better than THW did.) He loves Hiccup more than "freedom," he does not consider himself a captive. Once the war ended and peace was forged, the Berk dragons were not caged or chained, they were free to fly away at any time, but they chose not to because they _loved_ their humans and _wanted_ to stay with them. HTTYD was never, ever a "captive animal needs to be released into the wild" story. It was about love and friendship, and I feel deeply betrayed by Dean DeBlois, the writer/director of THW, for failing to understand that about his own freaking story. Other released captive animals, like the lions Christian and Elsa, remained close friends with their humans even after being released. Keiko, the captive orca was who fortunate enough to be rehabilitated and released into the wild, was still, for the rest of his life, closer to his human caretakers than to any wild orcas. (Which has its own issues, since orcas are more social than big cats are, but my point still stands.) Freedom is not necessarily a cookie cutter set of circumstances, it's about _choice_.

 

Anyway. Bruce had this idea in his head that his mission was to eventually get Dick living independently in the ocean full-time. However, to Dick, freedom means being able to live happily with his dad, without being confined or being forced into unnecessary activities.


	18. Chapter 18 - A Good Place to Gather

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 18 - A Good Place to Gather (rough draft 2)**

 

Arthur pushed up his date to visit, striding out of the waves with Mera just before ten in the morning. "Good to see you," Bruce said, shaking his hand as Dick eagerly raised a hand to Mera and was scooped up and hugged.

 

"So this is the kid?" Arthur asked, turning to Jason, who'd gone shy again and was lurking behind Bruce.

 

"That's right," Bruce said, stepping back a little so he could wrap his arm around Jason's shoulder. "This is Jason Todd. He says he's been looking for you."

 

"It's an honor, Your Majesty," Jason blurted. His eyes darted around, then he mouthed frantically at Bruce, _"Should I bow??"_

 

"You're fine," Bruce murmured back. He looked up again. "Did you locate any candidates?"

 

"I do have a few possibilities," Arthur said. "And listen, son, the other reason we came was to see if we can get to the bottom of this trafficking thing. Do you think you'll be able to talk to us about it in detail?"

 

Jason drew in a shaky breath. "If you're gonna shut 'em down, then yeah. I mean, yes, sir."

 

Arthur clapped him on the shoulder. "No need to be so formal, kid. I'm a small-town boy at heart."

 

Jason smiled shyly, and Bruce's heart fluttered. He loved his kids so _much_ , they could be so unbearably cute.

 

The doorbell rang a moment later, and Bruce frowned in confusion. "Clark?" he said in surprise when he went to answer it. "What are you doing here?"

 

"Are you kidding? I heard my favorite fish kid is back," Superman said, stepping into the house.

 

"C'aaaaaaarkkk!" Dick yelled, hurling forward so forcefully that his scooter board rolled straight down the hallway without him having to use his arms at all.

 

"Dickie!" Clark laughed, scooping up the mer and not seeming to notice the scooter clattering against his feet. "I missed you!"

 

"Missed you tooo," Dick crooned, nuzzling his face against Clark's as he hugged him.

 

Bruce, smiling, turned to close the door, then blinked when a red-and-blue figure came descending majestically out of the sky.

 

"Oh!" Wonder Woman exclaimed in disappointment. "I was going to use the doorbell this time."

 

"I suppose you still can," Bruce chuckled, shutting the door and waiting.

 

A moment later, the bell chimed, then again before it had faded away, then a third time as Bruce was opening the door. "Just once is fine."

 

"I see. Greetings, Bruce Wayne."

 

"Greetings, Diana."

 

Pounding footsteps approached, and Jason skidded into view. "Wonder Woman!"

 

"Hello, young Jason!"

 

Jason crossed his arm over his chest and bowed. Diana laughed and returned the gesture.

 

"Er...well," Bruce said, "come in, everyone. I'll make some more coffee, or tea if anyone wants it."

 

They hadn't even gotten down to business yet when there was a tapping at the back sliding door. Bruce stared, and Jason snorted. "What's _he_ doing here?"

 

"What _are_ you doing here, Jordan?" Bruce asked when he opened the door.

 

"What's it look like?" the Lantern said, inviting himself in along with a serious-looking person Bruce didn't recognize. "League meeting, duh."

 

" _League_ meeting?!"

 

"Bruce, boys, this is J'onn J'onzz," Clark introduced. "Otherwise known as Martian Manhunter. He's new to both the League and to Earth."

 

Bruce squinted at the newcomer, who morphed from a perfectly ordinary-looking man to a green-skinned humanoid with solid red eyes.

 

"What," Bruce said blankly.

 

"Whoooaa, are you an alien?" Jason asked.

 

"Yes. I am from Mars," J'onzz said gravely.

 

"So you can shapeshift?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Can you turn into a fish like Dick?"

 

"Yes." J'onzz turned his head for a moment to study Dick, who was now perched on Clark's shoulder. Then he started to sit down on the ground, presumably so he wouldn't fall when he transformed.

 

"You don't have to," Bruce said hastily.

 

J'onzz looked up at him, and Bruce somehow got the impression he was confused despite his complete lack of facial expression or body language.

 

"No, you totally do," Jason said mischievously, backed up by Dick's "Do~ it! Do~ it! Do~ it!"

 

"You really don't," Superman said firmly.

 

The palm trees outside suddenly rustled loudly in a strong, weirdly red-tinted wind, and then a seventh adult was suddenly among them. "Am I late?"

 

"You're _last_ ," Hal said.

 

"You're not late," Clark assured the newcomer. "We're still on introductions."

 

"Oh! Well, I'm the Flash," Flash said, holding out a hand for Jason to shake.

 

"Barry Allen," Hal clarified.

 

"Oh, are we doing real names? Everyone's still in costume...."

 

"This isn't a costume, they're my normal clothes in Atlantis," Arthur objected.

 

"Why is the entire Justice League in my home?!" Bruce wanted to know.

 

"This buying and selling of people is of great concern to us, and we have come to get more information and make a plan," Diana said. "You have good ideas, a secluded dwelling, and delightful children, all which make your home a good place to meet."

 

"Fine, but if you're all here, who's currently at the Hall of Justice? Who's keeping an eye on your hometowns?"

 

The League exchanged looks like such matters had never occurred to them.

 

"I have officials who manage the kingdom while I'm away on business," Arthur offered.

 

"My colleagues know how to contact me if my assistance is needed," Diana said.

 

"Ring'll probably give me a buzz if something happens," Hal said. He looked at the faintly glowing green device on his finger. "I think."

 

"My hometown doesn't exist anymore," Martian Manhunter stated.

 

Bruce gestured at the others. "What if a major event occurs while you're here, and you're not even aware of it? Do you at least have a program that will analyze news feeds and automatically alert you if something might need your attention?"

 

"Can we get one of those?" Barry asked.

 

Clark held up a hand. "We can look into that sort of thing later. Right now, we'll just keep the TV on in the background while we have our discussion."

 

Jason helped Bruce (or, rather, Bruce helped Jason) get everyone situated with snacks and drinks, then they turned the living room into a workplace. Jason, taking deep breaths and huddling in Bruce's arms, told them everything he could think of about the people who'd held him and the others captive. Then the fliers and Flash left for about an hour to do surveillance on likely locations as Bruce, Mera, and the rest of the League kept in communication and huddled over computers, trying to narrow down the search.

 

While they worked, the boys had gotten bored. Jason was doing schoolwork, lying on his stomach and idly kicking his feet in the air. He gasped and flipped over when he felt someone tugging on his socks. "What are you doing?!"

 

"I wanna see your feet," Dick said.

 

"No, you creep!"

 

"Why do you cover them up? Are you cold?"

 

"No," Jason grumbled.

 

"You're not even wearing shoes!" Dick reached for them again.

 

" _No_!" Jason yelped, tucking his feet under himself. "I-- I don't like people to see my feet."

 

"Why? Are they ugly?"

 

"No," Jason said sourly.

 

"You say 'no' a lot. Pleeeaaase let me see your feet? You can see my tail," Dick offered.

 

"I've already seen your dumb tail."

 

"My tail is not dumb! I have a _beautiful_ tail." Dick peeled off the sleeve, shook out his fins, then swept into a pose. "See? I'm very pretty."

 

"Ugh." Jason turned his back and tried to return to his work, shoulders hunched in anticipation of being nagged again.

 

Sure enough, the mer was soon poking at the tiny bits of Jason's socks he could reach. "Pleeeeaaaase, Jay? I bet your li'l feet don't like to be covered all the time."

 

"You know what happened," Jason snarled, spinning to face him again, "the last time people looked at my feet? They sold me to traffickers. They'd have been happy to cut my feet _off_ and sell them."

 

Dick grimaced, then gestured at the League. "Good people. They'll _never_ cut you, Jay. They love your feet."

 

Jason fidgeted for a long time. Dick rested his chin on his arms and fixed a set of sparkling blue puppy eyes on him, tail waving idly back and forth.

 

Jason finally drew in a deep breath. "You'll do somethin' fer me 'f I show you?"

 

"Do what?"

 

"Dunno yet. You'll owe me a favor."

 

Dick shrugged. "Fine."

 

Slowly, Jason worked a sock off and extended the bared foot a few inches.

 

Dick's eyes lit up and he straightened, gently taking the foot in both hands. "Oooohh." He played with the toes, gently spreading them to look at the webbing in between. Then he yanked the foot up to brandish it and declared, "I love feet, they're so dumb!"

 

The sudden movement sent Jason rocking back with a yelp; he hastily braced his elbows so he wouldn't crack his head against the floor. "You weirdo, let go!" Then he realized Bruce had his phone trained on them, either filming or taking pictures. "HEY!"

 

"I've been curious...."

 

Jason yanked his foot out of Dick's hold and scrambled back, tucking both his feet under his body and glaring.

 

"I'm sorry, Jay," Bruce apologized. "You do know that I would never hurt you no matter what your feet look like, right?"

 

"I _know_ ," Jason muttered, his face reddening. He did, however, after the League left, stop wearing socks except for when he went into town.

 

o.o.o

 

The trafficking ring was soon busted, and Bruce's next project was to locate Jason's biological mother. Using Arthur's information, Clark's contacts, and his parents' money, he eventually managed to pin down the most likely candidate as a blonde whose primary alias had been Sheila Haywood. She was going under a different name now, but he could tell from the security camera footage that she was still the same woman. She was actually still in Gotham City, working for criminals.

 

"So. Boys." They were sitting down to eat, Dick grabbing live fish out of a tank and the other two with plates of sandwiches. "What do you think of the three of us taking a trip to Gotham?"

 

"Grandma and Grandpa?" Dick asked eagerly.

 

"Yes, we can stay with my parents at the manor and visit with them. Going to Bristol will make it easier for me to investigate in the city about your mother, Jason, and if it's safe, we might be able to start proceedings to...update your legal status."

 

"Huh," Jason mumbled into his food.

 

"We're going to have to talk to the authorities at _some_ point, Jason. We need your documents, too, like your birth certificate and social security card. You'll need a driver's license or at least an ID in a few years, there will eventually be college and work, and...inheritance issues...." He paused nervously, but Jason didn't even acknowledge the idea that he might be a prominent figure in Bruce's will.

 

"I don't wanna go back into the system," Jason mumbled. "I want either my mom or...you. _No one_ else!"

 

"I want you very much, too, Jason," Bruce assured him. "We'll make it work. You won't have to go back into general foster care." He turned to his other son. "Dickie, worst case scenario for you, you might have to live at the manor permanently. You said that home is where I am, but what if that means you have no water except a couple of swimming pools and _maybe_ an occasional lake?" There was no way he was letting his child anywhere near Gotham's polluted coastal waters.

 

 _"I lived in tanks for so long,"_ Dick pouted, unhappy with Bruce's suggestion but knowing the options would probably be limited. _"I can live in Grandma and Grandpa's pool. Just let me go out in the wheelchair and don't tie me up and make me do stupid tricks for people I hate."_

 

"You know I'd never do that to you."

 

Dick shrugged. "Fine."

 

"Is it...hard to learn sign language?" Jason asked hesitantly.

 

Bruce smiled, probably more than the question warranted. He was really happy to see Jason taking an interest in communicating better with his brother. (Bruce probably ought to stop thinking of Jason as his child, but it was too late, he couldn't help it....) "Not hard at all," he said, signing as he spoke. "It just takes practice."

 

Jason, frowning in concentration, tried to imitate the tail end of the sentence.

 

"This is 'sandwich,' " Dick demonstrated. "This is 'I like.' So 'I like this sandwich' is...." He signed the whole sentence and then waited expectantly.

 

 _"I like this sandwich,"_ Jason repeated, then blushed and smiled when the others cheered for him.

 

TBC

 

A/N: The thing about Jason's toes isn't entirely accurate to the folklore, but I fudged it a bit to make it work in this AU.

 

I'd originally had Cyborg on the Justice League, but very belatedly remembered that I wanted to use him for something different, so I replaced him with Martian Manhunter. Here's the original Cyborg stuff I had to cut:

 

"What's it look like?" the Lantern said, inviting himself in. "League meeting, duh."

 

" _League_ meeti--?!"

 

A booming sound had the boys covering their ears. A blindingly bright vortex appeared and a human figure walked out of it, metal parts gleaming in the sun and a large pair of boots protecting machinery from the sandy beach.

 

"What?" Bruce said blankly.

 

"Bruce, boys, this is Victor Stone," Clark introduced. "Otherwise known as Cyborg. He's new to the League, and we're honored to have him."

 

"I saw you on the news," Jason remarked.

 

Victor winced. "The part where I joined the Justice League, or the part where my tech was going crazy and I blew up a bunch of stuff?"

 

Jason grinned. "Both. Both of them were cool."

 

Victor smiled back and turned to look at Dick, who was now perched on Clark's shoulder. "You and me in our little not-even-pretending-to-be-human brigade, huh," he said, holding up his curled fingers. Dick smiled and completed the fist-bump.

 

\---

 

"I've basically got the Internet in my head 24/7," Victor said, then added in a mutter, "though filtering is an issue sometimes...."


	19. Chapter 19 - Gotham

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 19 - Gotham (rough draft 2)**

 

They made their way to Gotham by sea, and the boys swam much of the way (Dick more than Jason, though, since the latter spent a fair amount of time reading on the deck). Bruce made them both get on board well before they reached their destination because of both the pollution and the increased boat traffic.

 

"Dick, Gotham is dangerous," he said, wondering how best to make his carefree eldest understand. "Grandma and Grandpa live in Bristol, which is safe, but the city itself is _very_ different. It's not like home at all, people are not nice."

 

"They'll cuss you out or ignore you if you say hi to random strangers on the street," Jason added, "and if you're alone in a wheelchair, they'll think you're an easy target for mugging."

 

"Mugging means they threaten to hurt you if you don't give them your money and other valuables," Bruce explained, his chest feeling tight.

 

"Why do people do that?!" Dick exclaimed.

 

"Because people suck," Jason stated. "Just stick close to us and _don't talk to anyone_ , okay?"

 

"Okay," Dick pouted.

 

"Also, we need to go over our cover story," Bruce said. He was too well-known a figure to be able to move anonymously through Gotham City, and people were going to have questions about the two boys who accompanied him, one of whom was officially a missing person and the other apparently disabled and not legally a person at all.

 

They docked at an upscale marina and killed time at a restaurant while they waited for the car to arrive. Bruce had remembered at the last minute to dress in an outfit that matched the setting, but he didn't have any nice clothes for the boys. (Living in a beach town for years had altered his standards more than he'd realized; everyone at the marina seemed overdressed to him.) People in the restaurant stared at Dick in his wheelchair, long sleeves, raised hood, and sunglasses, and at Jason in his hoodie, cut-off shorts, socks, and battered shoes. Bruce lifted his chin in self-assured challenge at anyone he happened to make eye contact with, and they hastily looked away.

 

Then a man's boisterous voice cut across the general rumble of chatter. "Wayne! Bruce Wayne, as I live and breathe!"

 

"Hi, George," Bruce said, trying not to let his internal sigh show as he stood up to shake hands with his old schoolmate. He couldn't remember the name of the man's insipid wife, so he just smiled and clasped her hand, nodding at their prim little son.

 

"Back in Gotham at last, huh! And who do we have here?" George added, peering at Bruce's boys.

 

Jason was glowering, an arm curled around his plate like he thought someone might steal his food. "Are you going to mugging me?" Dick asked curiously. "I don't have money, but B does!"

 

"What's that, now?" George exclaimed in surprise.

 

"This is Dick and Jason," Bruce explained. "I'm looking after them while they're in the city. We're actually on our way to see Mother and Father."

 

"Oh, splendid! Say, we've got a deep-sea fishing trip planned in the morning; care to join us?"

 

"I'm afraid I'm here on business, got some papers to see to."

 

As the men were talking, the skinny, immaculately coiffed woman was keeping her distance, grimacing at the Wayne boys in distaste and hanging onto her own son as if trying to prevent him from getting too close to them. The boy was staring openly.

 

"What's wrong with your legs?" he finally asked Dick.

 

"Don't have any," the mer said cheerfully.

 

"Someone cut them off?"

 

"Nope."

 

"It's none of your business," Jason snapped, sliding into Bruce's vacated chair so he could be closer to his brother.

 

"Aren't you hot in that sweater?"

 

"No. Fuck off."

 

The little family gaped, and Bruce said disapprovingly, "Jason, language."

 

"Fine; _buzz_ off, you little pasty-faced buttsucker."

 

"Good _heavens_ , Mr. Wayne!" the mother gasped.

 

" _You're_ a buttsucker," her son said lamely.

 

"William, I forbid you to use such vulgar language! There are more elegant ways of proving your superiority."

 

At the outraged look on Jason's face, Bruce swiftly moved to intercept, standing in front of the boys with a hand set on Jason's head and the other on Dick's shoulder. "I apologize, Mrs. Fitzhugh. And Jason, she's right. There _are_ more elegant ways to prove your superiority."

 

Now Mrs. Fitzhugh was the one looking outraged, and Jason laughed. Dick, having no idea what they were talking about, picked up a chunk of sushi with his bare hands and ate it.

 

"George, I'll see you around," Bruce said, nodding. "Nice to run into you again."

 

"Er...yes, good to see you," George said awkwardly, and herded his family away. Bruce could still hear Mrs. Fitzhugh complaining about them halfway across the restaurant.

 

He turned to his kids and exhaled. "Sorry, Jay. I know what wasn't pleasant."

 

"They acted like we were trash."

 

"People get like that sometimes. I'm sorry. You are precious to me, Jason, you and Dick both."

 

Jason, disarmed, shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks pink.

 

 _"I love you, Dad,"_ Dick signed. Bruce smiled and responded in kind.

 

The car arrived soon afterward, driven by Thomas himself, since Alfred was still getting the house ready and all the other servants had, as usual, been sent off on holiday for the duration of the visit. Father and son greeted each other with a handshake and man hug, then Thomas smiled at the boys and ruffled Dick's hair.

 

_"Grandpa!"_

 

"Good to see you again, Dickie. And this is Jason, I presume?"

 

"That's right," Bruce said proudly, wrapping his arm around the boy's shoulders. Jason, staring wide-eyed at Thomas, ducked back under Bruce's arm to hide behind him. "Jay, come on, say hi to my father."

 

"Hi," Jason mumbled.

 

"Sometimes he gets shy," Bruce said apologetically, and winced when Jason pinched him.

 

He and Thomas bundled the boys into the car, where Dick chattered at his grandfather in the front seat and Jason stuck close to Bruce in the back. "Jay, I promise he won't bite you."

 

"Why did he know my name?" Jason growled. "Did you _tell_ him about me?!"

 

"I call my parents several times a week, Jason. Of course I told them about you."

 

"About me, or ABOUT me??"

 

Bruce turned and took the boy by the shoulders so he could look straight into his eyes. "Jason, you are safe," he said firmly. "I will not let anyone hurt you."

 

"Hmph," Jason muttered, looking unconvinced.

 

"Daaaad," Dick whined, kicking his tail, _"I want to swim."_

 

"Soon, Dickie. Sort of. It's a long ride, but we're headed straight there." He dug a bottle of oily solution out of his bag so that Dick could add more to his sleeve. "Hang in there, chum."

 

While they were in the city, Jason gazed out the window, conflicted emotions on his face as he looked at familiar scenery from such an unfamiliar perspective. Both boys fell asleep in the suburbs, and did not awaken until the car was pulling into place in front of the manor and Bruce started gently shaking them. "Boys, we're here."

 

Alfred was already approaching, pulling out the wheelchair when Thomas popped the trunk. "It's good to see you, Master Bruce," he greeted as he passed.

 

"You too, Alfred."

 

"Uncle Alfred!" Dick called excitedly, and the butler's face softened.

 

"Hello, Master Richard." He nodded solemnly to Jason. "Young sir."

 

"This is Jason," Bruce explained, realizing that the younger boy was frozen again, staring. "He's the selkie I told you about."

 

"What the _fuck_ , Bruce?!" Jason hissed, scrambling back in a panic.

 

"Alfred's safe, Jay," Bruce assured him. "So are my parents. They've known about Dick for ages, remember? It's still a secret from the rest of the household, though, which is why we sent them away for a while."

 

They'd barely gotten Dick settled in his wheelchair when Martha Wayne came flying down the manor's front steps. "My boys, oh, my boys! Bruce, Dickie, come here, my loves; ohhhh, and here's the new little one, how _wonderful_ , Bruce!"

 

"And this is my mother, Martha," Bruce introduced with a smile. "Mother, this is Jason. He was actually born and raised in Gotham."

 

Jason swallowed hard and held out a slightly trembling hand to shake.

 

"Pleased to meet you, darling," Martha said warmly, returning the gesture as Thomas came up beside her.

 

"I'm born 'n' raised Park Row," Jason suddenly blurted, his Bowery accent thick. "Dad's a thief who died 'n jail, Mom OD'd, I stole 'n' sold half Bruce's fancy stuff first week I's in 'is fancy beach house, betcha real proud t' have a filthy street rat 'n yer lov'ly home here!"

 

"You didn't sell anything," Bruce said, fumbling for something to say after Jason's inexplicable outburst. "There was no one there to sell it to."

 

"I ain't showered in three days," Jason plunged on. (Bruce had no idea what he was talking about; he and Jason had both showered on the yacht that morning.) "Was pickin' m' nose in th' car jus' now, hope ya don' min', B-man; dropped outta school 'n third grade 'n'--"

 

"I'm sure you'll appreciate the hospitality here, Master Jason," Alfred cut in smoothly.

 

" _Master_ \--?!"

 

"Right," Bruce said loudly, wanting to cut off any further attempts by Jason to...what, disgust the Waynes? _Why_??

 

"I'm tired," Dick announced.

 

"We've got the pools all ready for you, honey," Martha cooed, putting an arm around Dick's shoulders as he started wheeling his chair toward the elegant accessibility ramp that had been added soon after his first visit to the manor. "I'm so glad we converted them to saltwater! It's nicer for you _and_ I've found I quite like it myself."

 

Back at the car, Thomas said, looking amiably confused, "Please to have you here, Jason." He nodded at Bruce and Alfred and said, "I'll be waiting inside," before heading up the stairs.

 

Bruce, who had an arm around Jason, gently tugged him away from the car. The boy jumped like a spooked deer when Alfred, who'd finished moving the luggage inside, silently approached and got into the driver's seat, preparing to move the car to the garage.

 

"Are you all right, Jay?" Bruce murmured as he ushered the boy up the stairs.

 

Jason looked a little dazed and didn't answer. As soon as they set foot in the front hall, Jason stopped dead and stared around at the elegant foyer in what looked a little like horror. Then he dove into the hall closet and slammed the door behind him.

 

"...He's not usually like this," Bruce apologized to Thomas, then went into the coat closet after his crazy kid.

 

"How the fuck long is this thing?!" Jason yelled, halfway down and still going.

 

"It's designed to be able to accommodate guests for balls and such. Jay, what are you _doing_?" Bruce asked, struggling after him and trying not to trip over boxes of neatly stored shoes.

 

"Why'd you bring me here, Bruce?! Rub me in yer parents' noses?! You hate 'em or somethin'?! Or maybe you hate _me_ , trying to show off--! Ow!" He'd finally found the back wall.

 

"Jaylad," Bruce said in exasperation, "please come here."

 

"No! I want a hotel! A NORMAL hotel, not some fancy-ass--!" Jason burst into tears, sinking into a huddled crouch and burying his face in his knees. "What the hell am I doing here?" he sobbed.

 

"Jay...." Bruce sat down by the wall and pulled Jason into his arms. Once the boy had finished crying, he asked hopefully, "Better?"

 

"I want to go home," Jason said miserably.

 

"Jay, we're here for _you_. Don't you want to find your mother?"

 

"Bitch didn't want me, she hates me! I want to go stay in the ocean forever!"

 

Bruce thunked his head back against the wall. He had thought himself an experienced parent, but nothing he'd learned from raising Dick had prepared him for this. "Jason, we will go home in a few days if you want. But I want to visit with my parents for a while because I love them and don't see them often at all, and we _need_ to get your documents. Please endure it for just a few days."

 

"Then I'll stay in here. Put some books and sandwiches and water bottles through the door every morning, and a poop bucket, and call me when it's time to go home."

 

"Jay, you haven't even seen the house yet. How do you know you'll hate it if you don't even know what it's like?"

 

"I don't hate the _house_!" Jason hissed. "The house hates _me_!"

 

"Jay, it's a building. It's inanimate."

 

"You know what I mean!"

 

"Kiddo, I truly, honestly don't."

 

Jason was silent for a while, face hidden in Bruce's shirt. Finally he said in a small voice, "People like me don't come to houses like this except to rob them."

 

"Jason, I think of you as my son. This is my house, therefore it's your house, too."

 

Jason's shoulders hunched even more. "I made such an _idiot_ of myself, your parents think I'm trash, and they're right...."

 

"You are not trash. They might think you're a little strange - _I_ think you're being a bit strange right now - but just be yourself and they'll get used to you. They care about you very much already, just like they did Dick before they met him."

 

"......I don't know how to act right...!"

 

"Just act like you do at the beach house. All right? Just be normal."

 

Jason finally, slowly, took his face out of Bruce's chest. "C'n you check and see if the coast is clear?" he mumbled.

 

"All right." Bruce went to look, and found Alfred patiently waiting in the hall. He signed urgently until the butler bowed and left. Bruce turned back to his kid, who was now dwarfed by a coat he'd pulled off a hanger and wrapped around himself. "All clear, Jason. Let's go."

 

Jason seemed subdued but mostly okay when Bruce showed him to a guest room. He had to be heavily coaxed out of his room to eat (they were taking dinner outside by the pool that night), and as soon as he saw the Waynes, he pulled the coat up over his head, hiding himself from sight.

 

"I think he's overwhelmed," Bruce said apologetically.

 

"Aww, too overwhelmed to eat?" Martha crooned.

 

Bruce smiled. "I doubt it. This boy _always_ has an appetite."

 

Jason tried to duck under the table at first, but when Bruce ordered him out, he dragged his chair back and hid behind Bruce. He flinched and hid in the coat every time Alfred came near and didn't say a word to the other diners for a long time, though he did whisper-moan about how good the food was when he started taking bites out of it.

 

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said when the butler came up with another serving.

 

"Thank you," Jason's muffled voice echoed from the coat-lump.

 

"You're welcome, Master Jason," Alfred made a point to say, and the coat-lump shrank a bit.

 

Dick and Martha were the ones who talked the most during the meal, chattering away about what they'd each been up to. As soon as Dick finished eating, he ripped off his sleeve and dove sideways into the pool. Martha went to change into a swimsuit so she could join him, and Thomas wasn't far behind.

 

The three of them had been happily swimming and splashing for a while when Martha noticed the other boys. Bruce was sitting on a deck chair, splitting his attention between the pool and his phone. The coat-lump was pooled on the chair beside him, Jason's eyes peeking out of the heavy fabric to longingly watch the antics in the water, one hand absently petting Ace (who had calmed down over the years and was now sleepily curled up with Jason on the chair).

 

"Jason, honey, come join us!" Martha called.

 

The eyes disappeared deeper into the coat.

 

"Oh, sweet little Jay, I would _love_ for you to come play with us!"

 

Jason reluctantly emerged enough to mumble, "I don't have a swimsuit. I'm dirty."

 

"You know what, chum," Thomas said, coming up beside his wife and leaning on the edge of the pool, "there are actually showers and extra swimsuits in all sizes just through those glass doors there. Bruce or Alfred can show you."

 

Jason regarded them for a long moment. Dick, by now at the edge of the pool with his grandparents, laid his head on his crossed arms and gazed at Jason with puppy eyes.

 

"Come on, Jay," Bruce murmured, standing up. He set his hand on Jason's back and exerted gentle pressure until the boy finally climbed to his feet and shuffled toward the house.

 

Bruce showed him around the large washroom by the indoor pool. Jason rinsed off and changed into a swimsuit, and Bruce found water shoes for him when he refused to leave the washroom with bare feet. He hunched into his hoodie when Bruce accompanied him back outside.

 

"Hey, handsome boy, you ready now?" Martha called.

 

Jason shrugged his shoulders. Then Dick burst out of the water, smacked him with a foam noodle, and laughed loudly as he sank back into the water.

 

"Oh that's _it_!" Jason hollered, plunging into the pool after grabbing some noodles of his own.

 

The boys chased each other around for a while and Bruce was relieved to see his youngest acting like a normal kid again. Jason got agitated and shy whenever the older Waynes spoke to him, but then Dick sneaked up behind him and shoved his hoodie down over his head. The seal zipped over to the far side of the pool and huddled there.

 

"Oh he's so CUTE!" Martha shrieked. "Oh, come here, sweet baby! Come here, I promise I won't hurt you. Ohhhh, please, little one, please!"

 

Bruce was the one who retrieved the animal, but as he was carrying him back to his parents, Jason suddenly squirmed, throwing back his hood and then scrambling to hide behind Bruce.

 

"Here you go, chum," Thomas said, picking the swimsuit out of the water and handing it to Bruce.

 

"Mother's not looking," Bruce reassured his son. "Father and Alfred have turned around, too. No one can see you, Jay."

 

Jason tugged the shorts back on underwater and then hauled himself over Bruce's shoulder to start cussing out Dick.

 

"But Jaaaayyy, seal-you is cuter! Grandma likes cute things!"

 

"DON'T TOUCH MY HOODIE, DICKHEAD!!"

 

Things eventually calmed down. The sky grew darker and the stars came out, the pool illuminated by lights both underwater and on the walls. Jason eventually started swimming around as a seal again. He stayed out of arm's reach of all the humans but Bruce and vengefully nipped at Dick's fingers, but he did allow Alfred to photograph him cuddled in Bruce's arms.

 

When Jason realized that Dick was going to sleep in the indoor pool that night and Bruce was going to sleep on a cot at the poolside, he had second thoughts about retreating to his guest room. Alfred willingly set up a second cot so that the little family could stay together. Bruce's parents bid them all good night, then the three youngest members of the Wayne family settled in to sleep.

 

TBC

 

**Deleted scene because I didn't prepare enough before drafting this chapter:**

 

Bruce's first road trip with both his sons was kind of fun. He taught car games to the boys, and Jason got a lot of reading done. The younger boy was fascinated by Dick's hoodie-and-wheelchair disguise, and helped earnestly whenever they stopped for a restroom or meal break.

 

Dick kept his complaining about the hotel bathtub that night to an obligatory minimum, having known what to expect, but Jason ranted about the cramped quarters and was the one who actually begged Bruce to let Dick 'stretch his tail' in the pool at two in the morning. He panicked even more than Bruce did when a trio of older teenagers came out to swim in the dead of night, and also when he and Bruce were struggling to get Dick safely out of the pool and into his wheelchair while the mer was cheerfully yelling a conversation back and forth with the teens.

 

"We're trying to _avoid_ attention, you idiot, not announce to the world that we've got a frickin' mermaid!" Jason hissed, piling towels over Dick's lower half as Bruce crouched to shield the mer's tail from sight.

 

"You guys are acting weirder than I am," Dick pouted.


	20. Chapter 20 - Retry

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 20 - Retry (rough draft 2)**

 

The next morning, Bruce blinked in the sunlight streaming through the windows and realized that Jason's cot was empty, blankets neatly folded. Dick was still fast asleep in the water. Bruce checked the kitchen first, where Alfred was warming up a simple breakfast, then tried Jason's room.

 

"Who is it?" a voice called sharply from the closet.

 

"Just me, lad," Bruce called back.

 

Jason rushed out. "Bruce, help! I can't get these stupid clothes to work...."

 

Bruce frowned in confusion at the formal suit Jason was half-dressed in. "Aren't there jeans and shorts and things in there?"

 

"I'm not going to wear _shorts_ in a _mansion_ ," the boy protested.

 

"I used to wear shorts all the time," Bruce pointed out. Mostly as part of his elementary school uniform, but still. " _You_ wore shorts here yesterday."

 

"Go away if you're not going to help me!"

 

"I'll help you, lad, calm down." Jason, once fully dressed in the suit with his hair carefully slicked back, looked incongruous for the occasion but very nice, and Bruce told him so. "Alfred will probably want more pictures. Come on, let's go downstairs."

 

Thomas was up by then, dressed for work and sitting in the Small Dining Room with coffee and a newspaper. Jason took a deep breath and said very politely, in a British accent, "Good morning, Mr. Wayne."

 

"Good mor--" Thomas glanced up and then blinked in surprise. "I say! What's the occasion?"

 

"I apologize for my rudeness yesterday," Jason said stiffly, still in Received Pronunciation, "and would like to get off on the right foot this time."

 

"Well, no harm done, my boy, and we're glad to have you all the same. Come sit down; do you like eggs?"

 

"Yes, please. They look delicious."

 

Bruce was mystified. Yesterday, Jason had gone out of his way to present himself as uncouth as possible, yet now he was acting like a Jane Austen character in a middle school theater production.

 

Martha commented on the same thing a little later, after Thomas had left for the day. "My goodness, you sound just like Mr. Darcy!"

 

"From _Pride and Prejudice_? Yes, that was an excellent book," Jason said.

 

"Actually," Bruce put in, wondering if he ought to make the correction or not, "what you read back at home was an adaptation for younger readers. It was a pretty faithful one, though, and--" He started speaking more hastily, guilty at the mortified look on Jason's face. "--the original version _is_ excellent. I'm sure you'll enjoy it very much when you're older."

 

"Yes, I'm...sure I shall," Jason choked out, looking like he wanted to die.

 

"Jason, it's an advanced book even for some adults nowadays, and you're ten. No one would expect you to--"

 

"I'M THIRTEEN!" Jason screamed, then his face flooded with color. "Pardon me, Mrs. Wayne. I-I am thirteen years of age."

 

Bruce gaped at his tiny little baby son. "You're _thirteen_?!"

 

"Would you like me to show you the copies we have in the library?" Martha offered. "You can pick your favorite and we'll read it together. I remember when my father used to read me French novels when I was a very young girl, long before I actually learned French, and I still enjoyed them."

 

"You have copies in the library?" Jason asked, looking confused.

 

"The mansion's private collection," Bruce clarified. "You know how we have our own little library at home? The one here is much bigger."

 

When Jason saw the vast room, with couches and a fireplace and sunlight from the high windows and shelves and shelves and shelves of books and a partial second floor with even more books, he gasped, "Holy sh--! I mean, good _heavens_ , this is-- absolutely GRAND!"

 

 _"Why are you talking like that??"_ Bruce mouthed in utter perplexity, but Jason was scampering between the bookcases by then, with Martha leading the way like a book fairy.

 

He eventually left the two of them cuddled on a couch together with an illustrated version of _Pride and Prejudice_. He was heading toward the pool when he heard the familiar sound of wheels on hardwood and a voice despondently calling, "Daaaad.....Jaaaay.....nobody loves meeeeee...."

 

Bruce turned a corner and set his hand on his hip. "Excuse me, you little drama queen, I love you very much."

 

Dick's face lit up at the sight of Bruce, but then he rolled off his scooter board and flopped on the floor in a show of pathetic helplessness. _"You left poor little fish boy all ALONE!"_ he signed upside-down. _"Everybody is gone, I am hungry and sad!"_

 

"I left a full fish tank and a pack of sleeves and your scooter _and_ your wheelchair all within reach of the pool," Bruce reminded him, "I left all the doors open behind me, the rugs were all removed before we even arrived, and the servants are all gone, so the only voices you'd have heard were ours. I am not falling for this."

 

_"I am so lonely~ Dad doesn't love me~"_

 

"Oh, come here, brat." Bruce scooped up his fish son and cuddled him (Dick was...not light; he was certainly more of a young man than a child nowadays, not that he usually acted like it) and Dick cuddled back, crooning. "Jason and Mother are in the library, and Father has left for work. I'm taking Jay into the city later today, but I think you'll be better off staying here at the house. We're going to be spending most of our time in offices, it will be very boring."

 

"Grandma will play with me?"

 

"I'm sure she will."

 

"Okay." Dick squirmed to get down, then hopped onto his scooter and rolled purposefully toward the soft sound of his grandmother's voice.

 

o.o.o

 

To Bruce's shock, when he finally got confirmation of Jason's birth date, not only was the boy indeed thirteen years old, but he would be turning fourteen in just a couple of months. Bruce could have sworn the boy was no older than ten when they'd first met, and was maybe eleven by now. "I'm scheduling a doctor's appointment for you," he declared. "You shouldn't be this small at your age."

 

"I'm not _that_ small," Jason said defensively.

 

"Jay, when was the last time you had any real interaction with boys your own age?"

 

"Who cares!"

 

"I haven't heard your voice start breaking or seen any evidence of facial hair. It's--"

 

"Were you _looking_ for that, you creep?!"

 

"--still within the realm of possibility," Bruce continued, "that you'll start puberty at the far end of the spectrum, but at this point, it's _really_ far."

 

"Screw you!"

 

"I just want to make sure that everything is okay."

 

"You know what doctors do to people, Bruce? They look at bodies! They look at FEET! They're going to look at MY feet and then guess what will happen, Bruce!!"

 

"Jay, I would _never_ take you to a doctor I don't trust. I know someone, a friend of the family, whom I would trust with my life or anyone's else's, and I will be present during the entire exam if you want. I will keep you safe, Jason."

 

"There's nothing wrong with me!"

 

"You could be healthy as a horse and I'd _still_ need to take you in for a checkup, Jason. You haven't seen a doctor the entire time I've known you, and am I right in guessing that you hadn't seen one for quite a while before that as well?"

 

"I'm _fine_ ," Jason sulked.

 

TBC


	21. Chapter 21 - Perfectly Normal

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 21 - Perfectly Normal (rough draft 2)**

 

Due to the circumstances, Jason was allowed, after some basic checks, to live in the manor while Bruce worked on his foster parent training. Dick was kept secret from social services, but the Waynes couldn't keep their staff on holiday indefinitely.

 

On the day most of the staff were scheduled to return, Bruce decided to take the boys into town to visit a museum, park, and library. By the time they returned home and had cleaned themselves up a bit, everyone was ready to gather in the front hall for the announcement.

 

"Everyone," Thomas greeted from where he stood with the rest of the Family on the first stair landing, "We have some good news. First of all, we're welcoming back Bruce, as you can see. The rest of it is his news, so I'll let him tell it."

 

He moved back and clapped his son on the shoulder, and Bruce awkwardly stepped forward. A mere signaling tap was enough to prompt Dick to wheel forward with him, but Jason fiercely resisted the hand pressing against his back, and Bruce only got the boy to move in the end by subtly lifting him an inch off his feet and setting him down in the proper place. Jason jabbed two fingers into his side as punishment and attempted to duck behind him, but Bruce's arm, now around his shoulders, firmly held him in place. "Keep your eyes on Alfred," Bruce murmured to him. Jason remained tense, but at least he finally went still.

 

Bruce cleared his throat and surveyed his audience. The entire household staff currently present in the manor were assembled, arranged by hierarchy with Alfred in the place of highest prominence. The butler looked serene; everyone else was staring at the children, particularly Dick, in great curiosity.

 

"So," Bruce said, "I decided to start a family." The staff were too well-trained to react verbally, but there was some very interested rustling. "Still no lady in the picture, but I had the great pleasure of making the acquaintance of Jason here, and after getting to know each other, it seemed a natural step to begin formally fostering him as we sort out matters with his surviving parent. In the event she doesn't have the means to care for him, I hope to make my guardianship of him permanent." He couldn't see the boy's face, but he did see Alfred smile gently and felt Jason relax a tiny bit under his arm.

 

Bruce then set his free hand on Dick's shoulder. "This young man here is Dick, the son of very dear friends who are away at present. Until their return, I have the privilege of looking after him myself. I am very fond of both boys and love them as sons, which is also their place in this household. Dickie has a number of special needs which I will see to personally and, as such, he will be staying with me in my room. In the event you find his condition relevant to your work, please defer to his judgment, as he is well aware of his own needs and limits - or lack thereof. Alfred can answer any appropriate questions you may have, and please don't hesitate to come to us, either, if you feel the situation warrants it. Dick and Jason's safety and comfort are our highest priority." He glanced at the kids. "Would you boys like to add anything?"

 

Jason frantically shook his head, but Dick waved and declared, "Hi~! I love B and Grandma and Grandpa and Ah-fed and Jay a _lot_. They are good people."

 

The staff kept silent in accordance with propriety, but several of them smiled in response to the young mer's enthusiasm.

 

Bruce glanced at his parents, then made way when his mother stepped forward. "All right, everyone!" Martha said brightly. "That's enough of keeping dinner waiting. We're very glad to have Dickie and Jay here, and it's wonderful to have you all back as well. You're dismissed to your duties, my loves!"

 

As soon as the Family turned away to prepare for dinner, Bruce noticed out of the corner of his eye that half the servants were eagerly swarming Alfred. Since the faithful butler could be trusted to weed out gossip bait from the legitimate questions, Bruce didn't bother worrying.

 

Without having to discuss it, the three of them headed straight for Bruce's room, where Jason threw himself on the bed and rolled around, groaning.

 

"What is it, Jay?" Bruce chuckled, lying down on his side and propping his head on his hand. Dick launched himself onto the bed and seized the opportunity to cuddle.

 

"Too many peoplllle," Jason whined. "We were doing _fine_ without them, we don't need freakin' _servants_!"

 

"It's a mansion, Jay, we can't maintain this place without servants. My parents aren't used to fending for themselves and it's not Alfred's job to do menial housework, even though he graciously picked up the slack while we figured out what we were doing. And it's a lot easier for me to look after you and Dick when I don't also have to worry about laundry and cooking and things like that."

 

"I don't like them," Jason said into a pillow, his voice muffled.

 

"You haven't even given them a chance yet."

 

"They'll find out about Dick and kill him."

 

"No one is killing Dick."

 

"Dad will save me," Dick said confidently, and Bruce gently kissed the top of his head.

 

o.o.o

 

Despite what he'd told Jason, Bruce was on pins and needles during dinner, hoping none of the staff would notice anything weird about the older of their new charges. Dick was his normal, cheerful self, keeping up a lively conversation with the other diners, and nothing went amiss. The Family retired to the theater after dinner to watch a movie together, and then Bruce took the boys to their rooms to get ready for bed.

 

"You need anything, Jay?" he asked.

 

"Nah, I've got it."

 

"Feel free to join us at any time if you like. Just knock with the code first, since I need to keep the door locked."

 

"Yeah, I know."

 

"Don't stay up late watching TV or playing video games, or I'll have Alfred take your TV away."

 

"I _know_!"

 

"Or reading. You need to rest."

 

"Bruuuuce!"

 

Bruce kissed the top of his head; Jason made a show of fighting him off while not actually resisting, then Bruce left the boy to his own devices and accompanied Dick next door to his own room.

 

The first thing he did was fill the tub with saltwater. Dick was already yanking off his hoodie and tail sleeve, and groaned in relief when Bruce lowered him into the water.

 

The sat quietly for several long minutes, Dick limp and weary, Bruce softly moving his fingers through his son's silky blue hair. "Tired?" he finally murmured.

 

"Yeah," Dick mumbled back.

 

"Alfred told me he set a curfew of 11:00, so none of the staff are allowed out of the servants' quarters between then and 4:30 a.m. Do you want me to wake you up a little later and take you to the pool?"

 

_"Yes!"_

 

"All right. Rest up, chum."

 

When the coast was clear, Bruce took Dick down to the indoor pool, which the mer gratefully slipped into. Dick immediately raced around a few laps, then surfaced to chitter happily at Bruce in his native language. Bruce got out some water toys and they spent an enjoyable hour or so playing around. Then Bruce sat on the steps with his son cuddled in his arms, and Dick soon fell asleep.

 

Bruce gently let the mer sink out of his arms and went to set up a makeshift bed for himself with some towels and a deck chair. His alarm went off at 4:00 a.m. and he groaned, but forced himself to get up and wake his son. "Dickie, come on, we need to get back to our room."

 

Dick was groggy and only half-conscious, and he fell right back asleep the moment Bruce set him in the bathtub. Bruce changed into dry clothes and then crawled into bed, so exhausted that he, too, fell back asleep immediately. He managed to sleep until about 7:00, when the code knock started banging on his door over and over again, more forcefully the longer Bruce procrastinated.

 

"Why aren't you up yet?" Jason demanded the minute the door opened.

 

"I didn't get much sleep last night. I had to take Dick down to the pool and then bring him back before the servants' curfew lifted."

 

"Why didn't you bring me?!"

 

"Sorry, Jay, I was too tired to remember. I'll bring you tonight, all right?"

 

"Okay. Where's Dick?"

 

"Sleeping."

 

Jason waltzed into the bathroom and Bruce tried to go back to sleep, but then Jason was literally jumping on his bed and Dick was loudly singing some annoying pop song, so he gave up and forced himself out of bed yet again to get ready for the day.

 

After breakfast, Bruce and the boys spent the morning working on paperwork and schoolwork, respectively, then he took them into town for some leisurely shopping, because they had no other plans and he liked buying things for people.

 

Dick ended up with five new hoodies and a couple of blankets, all with eye-catching designs; a silicone giraffe toy; a waterproof tablet so he'd have a bigger screen to occupy himself with while stuck in the bathtub; and a set of sparkly cheap jewelry that he insisted he liked better than the real jewelry Bruce tried to show him. Jason looked happy about the small pile of books he picked out, but grew alarmed and upset when Bruce tried to suggest anything else, and looked annoyed at how much Dick was getting.

 

"Geez, Bruce, I know you're rich, but this is dumb. Can't you, I dunno, _pace_ yourself?"

 

"I like buying people things...."

 

"Then go to a thrift store, or a garage sale! Buying all this crap brand-new is a _waste_."

 

Bruce, feeling challenged, looked up the nearest thrift store even though he'd never in his life set foot in one. He stared around curiously as Jason showed them around, and was both amused and exasperated when, even here, Dick filled up the shopping cart and Jason didn't make any selections. "Do you want that?" Bruce asked hopefully when he saw Jason fingering a keychain.

 

"Nah. I don't even have any keys."

 

"I can still get it for you."

 

"I don't want it enough to _buy_ it, I was just looking."

 

"Why did you want to come here if you don't want me to get you anything?"

 

"I never said I wanted to come here! I just think if you _have_ to buy a ton of random crap, better a thrift store than a freakin' _mall_."

 

Bruce resisted the impulse to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Is there anywhere we can possibly go where you will find things you might want to buy today."

 

"No, Bruce, you already got me all these books!" Then he paused and went thoughtful.

 

"What did you just think of?" Bruce asked hopefully.

 

"Well...."

 

Their next stop was the central library, which had an ongoing sale of books, movies, and music that had been withdrawn or donated. Bruce's heart filled with happiness to at last see his prickly younger son filling up a shopping basket to the brim (whereas Dick, in contrast, looked around, noted the lack of sparklies, and started whining).

 

"Now _this_ is how you shop," Jason declared, proudly walking out with two cheap plastic bags straining to contain their contents. "Fifteen books and one movie for $7.75! That costs less than ONE friggin' book at Barnes & Noble."

 

"Jason, we are billionaires. We can _afford_ to buy fifteen books and one movie brand-new, and they wouldn't have the yellowed pages and dusty book jackets--"

 

"The words are the same, Bruce, it doesn't matter what color the pages are! Whaddaya think the _point_ of a book is?!"

 

Bruce sighed. "As long as you're happy."

 

"I'm happy," Jason said defensively.

 

"I'm not!" Dick yelled. "Bored!!"

 

"Okay, Dickie, we'll stop for some food and then head home."

 

o.o.o

 

Dick was dragging by the afternoon and nearly cried when it became apparent that his only options were to sit in the bathtub or remain stuck in his wheelchair. Bruce's heart ached when he remembered that around this time back home ('home' being the beach house), Dick would have finished socializing for the day and was usually able to ditch his disguise and swim in the pool or the ocean. Here at the manor where there were always servants around, he was almost constantly on the clock.

 

"Come on, chum," Bruce murmured, hefting his son back up into his arms. Dick clung to him and buried his face in Bruce's shoulder. "Jay," Bruce asked his worried-looking youngest, "will you go fetch Alfred for me?"

 

"Yeah," Jason said immediately, running to find the butler.

 

Bruce carried Dick to the outdoor pool and watched anxiously as Dick sank to the bottom, curling up in what looked like the very deepest part. Alfred soon strode out to join him. "You called, sir?" Jason, trotting at Alfred's heels, hopped into the pool without pausing, drawing his hood up as he went. His sleek dark form joined Dick's in the water.

 

"I can't keep him trapped in his chair and the tub all day," Bruce said in a low voice. "Can you...keep everyone away, but discreetly?" He didn't want anyone to get suspicious about why they might be forbidden from going outside in the afternoons.

 

"Certainly, sir."

 

"This will probably be a daily thing."

 

"Yes, of course."

 

Bruce had no idea what Alfred said to the servants, but none of the indoor ones came outside for hours, and the groundskeepers, though visible in the distance, kept far away from the pool area as they went about their work. Alfred and Martha came out every so often to check on their boys, but the kids seemed all right now.

 

Dick eventually surfaced, Jason at his side, and Bruce tossed them some pool toys to play with. Dick had to be careful about how much of his body was visible above water, but he seemed a lot happier now that he had much more room.

 

"Better?" Bruce asked from where he sat at the pool's edge.

 

"Yeah," Dick cooed, leaning his head against his father's knee. Bruce stroked his hair, and when Jason leaned on the edge of the pool on his other side and artfully gazed off in the distance, Bruce petted him, too.

 

By suppertime, Dick was refreshed enough to don his disguise again without a fuss. He hugged his grandmother when they met in the dining room and got settled in the chair next to Bruce. The evening went much like before, though this time, Jason retired for the night to Bruce's room rather than his own. "Jus' seems easier," he remarked, shrugging.

 

"All right, but we've got some time to kill before curfew, and I'd like to get some sleep. You and Dick keep it down and stay out of trouble, all right?"

 

A few hours later by the indoor pool, Bruce fell asleep before the boys did, lying on a deck chair as the boys played in the water. He woke up to find himself in a towel nest on the floor, with Dick cuddled in his arms and Jason curled up against his back.

 

"Turn it off," the younger boy moaned, wrapping both arms over his head.

 

"We need to get back to my room," Bruce said, shutting off his phone alarm. "You can sleep again once we're there."

 

Thankfully, the boys let him sleep in longer this time. It was late in the morning by the time all three of them were ready for the day, and Jason, probably because he was hungry, was whiny and irritable as Bruce packed everything mer-related out of sight and scrubbed stray scales from the tub. "Almost ready, Jay."

 

"No one's gonna come in, the door's friggin' locked!"

 

"Yes, but I'm not the only one with the key, Jason, and I don't want to take unnecessary risks with Dick's safety."

 

"Fire your servants if you can't trust 'em!"

 

"Jay, please...."

 

They were all startled to open the door and find a cluster of maids right outside, leaning together and whispering intently. The young women startled back. "Oh! Master Bruce, we didn't-- Er, we've come to clean your room, sir."

 

"Didn't Alfred give you special instructions about my room?" Bruce demanded. Dick, looking uncertain, was hanging onto his sleeve, and Jason, probably picking up on his angry anxiety, had hidden behind him.

 

The maids hastily curtsied. "Ah, forgive the presumption, sir, it's just, there's no need to clean your own room--"

 

"My room is off-limits while the boys are here," Bruce snapped. "There's delicate medical equipment and I have things optimally arranged to make it easier for Dick. _No one_ other than Alfred even touches the _doorknob_ of my room, are we clear?"

 

"Yes, Master Bruce," they all murmured, curtsying again before scurrying off.

 

"Nosy pests," Jason snarled into the back of Bruce's shirt.

 

Since these particular young maids were fairly new, having presumably been hired after Bruce had left for college, he didn't really know them personally, and so had nothing to say in defense of them.

 

They stopped briefly by the kitchen to let the cook know they were up, and she immediately paused her work to start fetching the meals she'd saved for them. "Ah, young masters! Take a seat in the dining room, my loves, I'll have your breakfast out in a minute."

 

There was raw fish for Dick as usual, presumably because of his extremely specific dietary needs and restrictions. Bruce was glad that they had convinced the staff not to have any servant on hand for the meal when his parents weren't present, since it meant he could consume Dick's dipping sauce and avoid suspicion about why the boy ate nothing but raw seafood. Jason would eat pretty much anything, and Bruce wasn't picky, either. They had a bell to ring if they needed any help, though Jason seemed averse to it and Bruce had long ago grown used to eating without any servants at his beck and call. Dick only used it for the sheer amusement of watching people in uniform appear like magic in response.

 

"Not a false alarm, for once," Bruce said apologetically when Carlos entered the room for the final time. "I think we're finished."

 

"Very good, sir," the man said cheerfully, starting to gather up dishes.

 

"You come every time I ring the bell!" Dick laughed.

 

"I do, indeed, Master Richard," Carlos said with an indulgent smile.

 

o.o.o

 

For several reasons, Bruce hoped very much that he could adopt Jason, and one of those reasons was because he could see how hard the landlocked living conditions were on Dick and wanted to get him back to the ocean as soon as possible. The mer at first refused Bruce's offer to send him down to Atlantis for a while, but as the weeks dragged on, Dick started to reconsider the prospect. His feelings were so torn that he'd often get overwhelmed and throw a fit, then cry himself to sleep in his father's arms.

 

Though Jason was faring better, he, too, indicated several times that he missed the sea. "I didn't know," he mumbled once, not looking up from his book. Dick and Martha (and Ace) were laughing and splashing loudly in the lake, but it was quiet here in the shade under the trees. "Living here m' whole life, I didn't know what was missing, but now.... I need-- The water, _real_ water, I just-- need it."

 

He risked a glimpse up at Bruce, who rested a hand on his arm. "That's not surprising. I'm working as fast as I can, lad."

 

The corner of Jason's mouth quirked. "I know. I'm jus' complaining. Venting."

 

Bruce pulled him close and Jason curled into his side, settling down again with the book.

 

Bruce hesitated a long time before asking, "Jay?"

 

"Huh...?"

 

"Can you...be Robin for a few minutes?"

 

Jason squinted up at him suspiciously.

 

"I love both versions of you very much, but I haven't gotten to cuddle Robin in a long time."

 

"You just like me better when I can't talk," Jason grumbled.

 

" _Can't_ you talk as a seal?" Bruce wondered. "You have a pretty impressive vocal range."

 

Jason hesitated, then took a deep breath, sat up, and hesitantly tugged his hood down over his head.

 

Bruce gathered the furry pup into his arms and crooned as if to a baby.

 

"Sound...like...moron," the seal croaked, and Bruce burst into laughter because that was cute, too. "You _can_ talk like this!"

 

"Haaaaard!"

 

"All right, all right, ssshhh. I love you, Jay. Sshh." He was amazed and touched when he realized, a few minutes later, that Jason had actually dozed off in his arms. He lightly kissed his precious son's head and then settled back to watch Dick, feeling utterly content.

 

TBC

 

A/N: Before I started working on this fic, I'd had no idea what kind of sounds seals make, other than maybe barking. Come to find out, their noises are extremely varied, weird, adorable, and hilarious, and in some cases uncannily similar to human speech. XD


	22. Chapter 22 - Mother

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 22 - Mother (rough draft 2)**

 

Bruce finally managed to track down Jason's biological mother. Dressing inconspicuously for that run-down part of town and disguising his face so the tabloids wouldn't catch wind of his odd activities, he waited until he saw her leave the shabby, unmarked building where she worked and fell into step beside her. "Sheila Haywood," he said in a low voice, "I need to talk to you about your son, Jason Todd."

 

She stopped and stared at him. "Who the hell are you?"

 

"I work for Jason's foster father. He is interested in adopting the boy."

 

She lolled her head away and gave a dark chuckle, reaching into her purse for a cigarette and lighter. "Little bastard's still alive, huh."

 

Bruce forced his jaw and fists to unclench. "Yes. What are your expectations regarding your relationship with him?"

 

"I don't give a shit about the brat my rapist ex knocked me up with."

 

Bruce had to remind himself that the woman had been victimized and that her lack of care for her child was good news for him. It was devastating for Jason, though, which was why he would soften the blow as much as he could when the time came to tell him. "Then you'd be willing to voluntarily terminate your parental rights? My employer will cover any expenses."

 

Sheila exhaled a cloud of smoke, gazing at him thoughtfully. "I want to meet him."

 

"...All right," Bruce ground out. Jason had desperately been wanting to meet his mother as well, he couldn't stand in the way of that. "Supervised visit. You'll sign the forms then."

 

"Fine, whatever," she grumbled, turning away and starting to walk off.

 

Bruce had to catch her to give a time and a meeting place. "Can you make it there all right?"

 

"Let go," she said harshly. Bruce did so grudgingly and clenched his teeth in frustration as he watched her leave.

 

o.o.o

 

The restaurant, which was fairly near Sheila's area of town, had once been nice but now looked aged and tired. Bruce had brought his family lawyer and a notary along with Jason, paying for their time because he wanted to get the paperwork out of the way as soon as possible.

 

Jason was nervous, which meant he was fidgety and rebellious. Bruce quickly gave up doling out instructions to fix his behavior and instead resorted to redirection, which worked a lot better when Jay was in a mood like this.

 

They were watching an episode of _Wishbone_ on Bruce's phone when Sheila finally arrived, over thirty minutes late, accompanied by two grungy men and a third with overly-slicked hair and an ill-fitting suit. As far as Bruce could tell, she wasn't wearing any of the same clothing she had been when he met her earlier, and he wondered if her seal pelt was beneath her outer clothes. He wondered if pelts could change appearance or if they were 'stuck' in whatever their initial disguised form was. He wondered how they or their owners decided what form to take in the first place--

 

 _'Focus.'_ "That's her," Bruce murmured to Jason, though he was watching the approaching men with an uneasy feeling in his gut. He himself had brought people other than Jason, it wasn't a shock that Sheila hadn't come alone, but he would have expected a friend or two for moral support or maybe an acquaintance with experience in law, rather than...this.

 

Jason immediately jumped out of his chair and ran a few steps, but came to an abrupt halt, staring. "...Mom?" he finally said.

 

She gave him a tight smile. "Hi, sweetie."

 

He fidgeted, eyes darting around at their little audience, and shifted into a forced-casual pose. "Hi."

 

Sheila leaned to give him a stiff, awkward hug, then moved on to the table. "You're paying, right?" she said sharply to Bruce as her companions made themselves at home.

 

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. It wasn't that he minded paying for the entire meal; what he minded was the atmosphere, how wrong this all felt for a long-lost parent's reunion with her child.

 

Jason hovered uncertainly for a moment, then his face hardened and he stalked to the table. Sheila and one of her companions had not chosen the expected seats, which meant they'd have to move if Jason was to sit between his guardian and his mother. "I wanna sit next to my mom."

 

The man in the wrong seat grinned at him unpleasantly. "People don't always get what they want."

 

"She's my MOM!" Jason exploded. "I haven't seen her since I was a baby!"

 

"Oh, just move, Harris," Sheila snapped, rolling her eyes. After a long pause, Harris got up and made a long, noisy production out of relocating himself next to Bruce, who was doing mental exercises in an effort to keep his temper. Jason plopped down in the vacated chair and scooted close to his mother, who edged away without looking at him. Jason ducked his head, looking crestfallen.

 

Luckily, at that moment a waitress bustled up to take their order, and Bruce was saved from having to growl something ill-advised.

 

Sheila simply ordered a fish burger, but all three of her companions ordered a slew of the most expensive things on the menu (not that they were _actually_ expensive compared to the sort of restaurants Bruce was used to frequenting in Gotham). Jason defiantly asked for nothing but fries and a milkshake, so when the waitress got to Bruce, he ordered more food than he needed, planning to share with Jason when the kid inevitably got hungry.

 

Once the waitress retreated, everyone was left either staring at each other or averting their eyes. Bruce desperately tried to think of something to say that wouldn't give away the fact that Jason and presumably Sheila were mythological creatures, but failed.

 

"Why'd you leave Dad?" Jason finally burst out.

 

Sheila stared at him contemptuously. "Why does anyone seize her chance to leave a man who blackmailed her into marriage?"

 

Jason scuffed his feet uncomfortably, having just realized that his biological parents' relationship was the stereotypical horrific selkie story. "Sorry," he whispered as if it was his fault he'd been forcibly conceived. Bruce set a hand on his knee to comfort and reassure him, and Jason rested his hand on top of Bruce's. He fidgeted and then straightened his shoulders, though he scowled at the table's surface as he spoke. "So you never wanted me."

 

Sheila lit a cigarette. "I never said that."

 

Jason's head shot up and he gave her a sharp look.

 

She smiled tightly at him. "You're not your father. It's...nice to meet you. Son."

 

"Yeah," Jason mumbled. Bruce felt tense with anxiety. Sheila had never actually promised to give up her parental rights, after all.

 

The awkwardness continued until the food came, at which point Sheila ignored everything but her burger and her companions all enthusiastically tucked in. Bruce's party ate more delicately, occasionally exchanging a murmured comment or two, and Jason basically dissolved one fry after another in his milkshake without going so far as to eat most of them. Most of the noise at their table was from Sheila's companions, whose conversation got louder and more inappropriate as they consumed more and more beer.

 

Bruce finally asked his son, "Jason, is there anything else you wanted to ask or say to your mother?"

 

"No," the boy growled, looking upset.

 

Bruce firmly set down his fork announced, "Then let's get down to business. Ms. Haywood, if you're finished, I'd like to get the paperwork over with."

 

Sheila didn't answer at first. She looked at her companions, none of whom noticed her. Her face twisted, and from the reactions, she might have kicked them under the table. "Oh...yes, certainly, I'll get the car," the one in the sleazy suit said, and took some of his unfinished food along when he left.

 

When the other men didn't take much notice of Sheila's prompting, she hissed at them, "Jones, Harris, _go to the fucking bathroom_ already. You know how constipated you get when you eat this shit."

 

The men swore and complained, but finally got up and slowly made their way to the back of the restaurant. Bruce's companions were staring at him in disbelief. He surreptitiously nodded at Jason as if to say, _"We're doing this for him, to get him out of here."_ Their faces softened in acknowledgment.

 

Sheila cleared her throat. "Jason, ehrm...I'd like to talk to you for a minute, before I sign anything."

 

" 'Kay," Jason said warily. Sheila got up, but he didn't move.

 

There was a pause. "In private," Sheila clarified.

 

"Bruce is gonna be my dad," Jason said, and Bruce released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of him."

 

" _They're_ not going to be your parents, too, are they?" Sheila snapped, nodding at the others. "In private, Jason. Let's go."

 

"Don't order me around, bitch!" Jason yelled. " _You_ left _me_ , you're not my mom! Catherine's my fucking mom, not YOU!"

 

"Just come outside and talk to me for ONE MINUTE you little--! Son," Sheila ground out, making a visible attempt to rein in her temper. "I'll sign the papers after. Just come let me talk to you for one minute."

 

"I'm going with you," Bruce said at once. "This isn't the safest area of town and I'm not going to leave Jason and...his mother unprotected in an alley."

 

Sheila gave him a hard look, then turned away and started texting as she headed out of the restaurant. Bruce nodded at his companions and followed after her with his arm heavy around Jason's shoulders.

 

Outside, Sheila did indeed lead them into the alley behind the restaurant, far deeper than Bruce was comfortable with, until he stopped and growled, "That's far enough." Jason was clinging to his shirt by now.

 

Sheila sighed and turned to face them. "Fine. Jason, I...I love you. And...I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. Growing up. I was having a hard time, and I didn't have energy to spare for anyone else."

 

"I get it," Jason ground out. "Apology accepted. Sign the papers so you don't have to fu-- freakin' worry about me anymore."

 

"I just-- Could I just--" Sheila's eyes flicked around restlessly. "Could I get a picture?" she burst out. "A...selfie. You and me, my...wonderful baby boy."

 

"No! Bruce, I wanna leave. _Dad_ , I wanna leave."

 

Bruce, who had started complying even before the 'Dad,' found his way blocked when Sheila darted in front of him. "Just a quick one!" she said desperately. "Here, I--" She dipped her head down beside Jason and took an awkward photo. Bruce didn't even have to get a good look to know that Jason was scowling in it. "How about one with a hug?"

 

"Let go of me, bi--!"

 

Then the air split, and Bruce panicked. He was wrapped around Jason before he even realized he'd moved, shaking, nearly in tears at the sounds of gunshots and screams coming from the restaurant.

 

"Ow! Bruce, what's happening, let me go--!"

 

"Let go of him, I need to get him somewhere safe--!"

 

Bruce couldn't move. He couldn't move. He was eight years old in a different alley, watching his parents groaning and bleeding as pearls rolled in blood, he was going to die he was going to die but it would be okay as long as _Jason was safe_ \--

 

Pain spiked through his head as if from a lightning bolt. Stars and blackness fought for control of his vision, he _couldn't breathe_ \--

 

Jason's screams were coming from too far away. He was on his hands and knees in the filth of the alley, he couldn't understand why there was no blood but _his arms were empty_ , Jason was, they'd taken--

 

Bruce lumbered around just in time to catch a glimpse of his child being thrown into the back of a van before the door slammed shut. Sirens were wailing, the gunshots were gone but people were still screaming and sobbing, he clawed himself up the wall to his feet and staggered a few steps, but his body kept going sideways when he thought he was going forward. He tried to memorize the rapidly retreating license plate number, but his vision was swimming and he didn't know if it was PXT or PTX, Jason, his head _hurt_ , Jason, why was there no blood when his brains felt like they were spilling out the back of his head, they'd shot Mother and Father, Jason, Jason, Jason...!

 

o.o.o

 

Two injured, none dead. The shooting had just been a distraction, a cover for the kidnapping.

 

People kept trying to make Bruce get into the fucking ambulance but he didn't _care_ if he had a concussion, his son had JUST BEEN KIDNAPPED, WHY DON'T YOU GO TRACE PXT-425 OR PTX-425, OR MAYBE IT WAS 245, JUST TRACE _ALL_ THE FUCKING COMBINATIONS INSTEAD OF FUSSING OVER _ME_ WHEN MY TEN-YEAR-OLD CHILD HAS JUST BEEN KIDNAPPED, HE'S THIRTEEN AND HE'S BEEN PUT IN THE BACK OF A FUCKING VAN AND THEY'RE GOING TO SKIN HIM ALIVE...!

 

I was going to adopt him. I'm going to adopt him, he's my son, all she needed to do was sign...the fucking papers.... She never meant to sign them, did she....

 

o.o.o

 

Bruce's head hurt. It fucking hurt. Looking at things hurt, so his eyes were closed; the back of his head had been bandaged but he could still see blood pouring from the wound, even with his eyes closed; blood pouring down his neck, across his hands, spreading across the pavement for loose pearls to get caught in....

 

They'd found the van. PTX-524. Abandoned. Bruce had given them information about the mer traffickers in case it turned out to be relevant. Maybe the police would find out Jay was a seal, maybe they wouldn't. As long as his little pup came home _safe_.

 

Running footsteps; Mother kneeling in front of his chair, exclaiming in horror at the state of him, crooning soothingly as she caressed him and tried to get him to look at her.

 

When he cracked his eyes open, tears spilled down. "They took him. They're going to kill him."

 

"Oh, honey, no, no, the police will find him, he'll be okay, they've gotten much better these days--"

 

"Dad?"

 

Bruce looked up and saw his older son, wheelchair to hide his tail, sunglasses and blue hoodie to hide the rest of his inhuman features. Even bundled up, the mer still looked worried sick.

 

"...I lost him, Dickie."

 

Dick set the brakes and heaved himself into Bruce's lap. Bruce held his son close and squeezed his eyes shut, tears sliding down his face.

 

TBC


	23. Chapter 23 - Abyss | Chapter 24 - Courage

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 23 - Abyss (rough draft 2)**

 

The traffickers were caught and arrested two days later. They were a smaller branch of the organization that had kidnapped Jason before, struggling to continue their operation after the main hub had been gutted by the Justice League.

 

Bruce raced down to the station, feeling sick and hollow at the news that they'd been found in a warehouse full of seal skins. No one would let him past the lobby, but as he paced, waiting for a detective to meet with him, two officers came out, escorting a familiar blonde woman.

 

Bruce immediately stepped to block their way. She smiled fiercely at him, triumphant despite her black eye and the handcuffs. "He's dead," she spat at him.

 

Something inside Bruce broke and crumbled away. The shell that was left growled, with emotion in its voice that Bruce felt none of, "Why?"

 

"Because you've won. You people have conquered the earth, there's no fighting you. I burned my own coat and became one of you. I burned my coat and was _free_." The officers holding her looked at her like she was crazy. "The fools who value a poisoned sea above their own lives deserve to die; but that little bastard? I would have killed him regardless. He's just like his father."

 

"HE WAS NOTHING LIKE HIS FATHER, YOU MURDERING BITCH!" and the only reason Bruce was thrown out of the station instead of arrested was because he was a Wayne in Gotham City.

 

He tried to cry on the way home, but couldn't. He couldn't...fucking... _feel_ anything, except churning self-loathing because he had let his son die.

 

Jason was nothing like Willis Todd, and he was nothing like Bruce Wayne, either. He wasn't an abuser, and he wasn't a _failure_. He'd been a beautiful little boy, bright with promise and goodness, revealing more and more of it as he'd slowly shed his wariness and started to bloom. He'd been _perfect_.

 

...

 

...

 

And now he was gone.

 

o.o.o

 

There was no point. Staying in Gotham anymore. No point. None. And Dickie needed the sea.

 

So they left.

 

o.o.o

 

"Dad?"

 

His head hurt. His mouth felt simultaneously slimy and cottony, he was crusted with sand and half-naked. His gut hurt. His feet hurt.

 

"Daaaad!"

 

He was lying at the edge of the water, waves reaching up past his waist, mostly-empty bottle still clutched in his hand. He had no recollection of how he'd gotten here. The last thing he remembered, he'd been trying to write a book at three in the morning, but instead of an emotional, tragic story about how he'd taken in a lost selkie, the words his fingers typed had been along the lines of _Jason Jason Jason Peter Todd *backspace backspace backspace backspace* Wayne. No, because Waynes are terrible people who deserve to die, except for Martha and Thomas. Jason Peter. What a good boy. They should have cut my skin off and then shot a bullet through my head. That would make a good story._ Then he'd stopped for a drink break.

 

Now it was clearly at least midmorning and he had a hangover on the edge of the sea, and the little merboy who should never have trusted him needed something but he had nothing left to give.

 

"Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad," Dick whined, poking at him.

 

"Don't call me that. Go away."

 

"B, _you_ went away. You look like you're here but you're not, you're _gone_ , and I'm scared. I'm sad for Jay and there's no one to be sad with me, just you being scary. You are not dead, so get up and be alive!"

 

"No." Bruce rolled over, his back to Dick. Maybe he should call Arthur. Dick kept saying he didn't want to go every time Bruce tried to send him to a functioning adult who could take care of him, but the king of the sea could _make_ him go. Bruce didn't have the energy.

 

"What's wrong with you?!"

 

Bruce thrashed to face him again, scattering sand and sending pain crackling through his head and body. "MY SON FUCKING DIED. THAT'S WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME."

 

"....Were you like this when you left me in Atlantis?"

 

"No." He'd been able to write a book then. He'd gotten drunk, but not _this_ drunk. He had left Dick safe and happy. He had left Jason scared and tortured and _dead_.

 

Dick's face closed off. "You love him more than me."

 

"I don't love anyone." Because his heart was dead, along with everything else about him that mattered.

 

Dick flicked his tail. "Okay," he said through gritted teeth. "You don't want me anymore. I'm going to Atlantis."

 

"Don't get killed on the way." Bruce flopped back into the sand and buried his face in his arm.

 

When he looked up again, it was hot and the sun was searing; the tide had lowered enough for the sand around him to be dry. He was badly sunburned. It had only felt like about ten or fifteen minutes, but he had to have been lying here for hours. "...Dick?"

 

He forced himself to his feet, which took a long time and _hurt_ , but he deserved all the pain. He had to pull hard to get the bottle out of the sand. _'Don't litter. It'll fill up the sea and kill Dick someday, and then he'll be dead like Jason. My son is dead. My son is dead.'_

 

Bruce lurched up the beach to the house, but Dick was nowhere to be found. He called Arthur. "Dick...left...."

 

 _"He's here, Bruce."_ The king's voice was gentle. _"He arrived a little while ago. He's safe. Are you all right?"_

 

"My son was murdered by his own mother."

 

_"I'm sorry, Bruce. Stupid question. I'm sorry. I meant, Dick was very upset, it took him a while to calm down and he only just told us about...you a few minutes ago. I can send someone--"_

 

"No," Bruce snarled.

 

_"What about Clark, or Dian--?"_

 

"LEAVE ME ALONE, STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME," Bruce shouted, slamming the button to disconnect the call. He'd just wanted to make sure Dick was safe, that he'd only killed one son instead of both of them.

 

He sat there for a while, his head hanging. Then he went to go hit his punching bag for a while.

 

o.o.o

 

Perhaps Bruce should have expected it, but he wasn't exactly in good working order. He blinked blearily up at the worried face hovering over him, and he figured out that he was curled up at the base of a large potted plant by the pool before he finally recognized the alien. "Clark. Go away."

 

"Bruce, I-- What--"

 

Bruce shifted around the plant, hiding from the sun.

 

Clark cautiously followed. "I'm so-- I know it's nowhere near enough, but I'm so _sorry_ , Bruce. I wasn't even on Earth for the past few weeks, I got back and Arthur told me Jason--"

 

"SHUT UP."

 

"Bruce--"

 

"SHUT UP. GO AWAY."

 

There was a long silence, then Bruce sensed the other man settling down nearby, presumably to keep him company. Bruce willed himself back to sleep to escape, hoping Clark would be discouraged enough to leave.

 

He thought, when he next woke, that it had worked, but it turned out that Clark had actually moved him to his bed and was now cleaning the living room. A pot in the kitchen filled the downstairs floor with the smell of warm soup.

 

"GET OUT."

 

"Bruce--"

 

"GET OUT."

 

"We're _worried_ about you, Bru--"

 

Bruce hurled a book at him, and as if it had flipped a switch, he started seizing everything he could get his hands on and throwing them at the alien. Clark tried to catch them all and set them down fairly gently, but then Bruce got close enough to throw a punch. Clark tried to dodge, but he was caught off guard and Bruce's clenched fingers still grazed him. A moment later, the fingers started to throb in dull pain, and Bruce stared at them.

 

"You'll break your own hand if you hit me," Clark said, almost apologetically. "Bruce, come on, let me--"

 

Bruce swung out again, harder this time. Then Clark was struggling frantically to stop Bruce from shattering his own body against him, and they finally ended up with Clark fully restraining him on the floor. Even then, Bruce wrenched at the iron-firm grip as if possessed, and Clark, alarmed at the sounds he could probably hear his friend's muscles and tendons and joints making, flew upward and hovered by the ceiling.

 

Bruce stared up at him. "If I owned a gun," he said in a dead voice, "I'd shoot you."

 

Clark believed him. He also knew that Bruce was smart enough, even in his grief, to know that he himself would be the one at risk from ricocheting bullets. "...All right. I'll leave, for now. But we're your friends, Bruce, and we're not going to let you kill yourself."

 

He flew away then, and Bruce thought that was the end of it. But then he started getting texts a few times a day, mostly from Clark but also from the rest of the Justice League. He found that it was easier to reply to them, pretending to be doing all right. If he ignored the messages or lost his temper, he'd get visitors trying to bully him into doing things he _didn't want to do_ , like eating or changing into clean clothes or sleeping in a bed. Typing _i'm okay_ and a made-up detail or two about what he'd presumably accomplished during the day was easier.

 

 _We are here for you whenever you need us, Bruce_ , Diana messaged more than once.

 

 _thank u. appreciate it_ , Bruce messaged back. "Fuck you all," he said out loud, tossing the phone away and relieved to have a few hours of respite before the next text.

 

o.o.o

 

He cried a little as he sat there on the kitchen floor, eating a protein bar. The hunger had finally been too strong to resist, and as he thought back, he realized that he hadn't eaten anything in at least five days. Twice he had found himself lying in bed with literally not enough energy to move, and he realized he might really die if he kept this up.

 

There was no one else here. _No one_ to take care of and make sure he took care of himself as well. If he didn't do something, he might actually die.

 

It took at least an hour or two, but Bruce was finally able to force himself to write up a schedule.

 

_8:00 - Eat something_

_After that - Brush teeth_

_9:00 - Train_

_11:00 - Shower_

_12:00 - Eat something_

_12:30 - Train_

_17:00 - Do one household chore_

_18:00 - Watch The Gray Ghost_

_20:30 - Brush teeth_

_After that - Go to bed_

 

The schedule worked for one day. He skipped lunch, did only half a chore, and ended up marathoning _The Gray Ghost_ until three in the morning, but _more or less_ , he stuck to the schedule.

 

The next day, he couldn't get out of bed, so he went back to sleep and started his day at 13:00. His training was half-hearted, he stood under the shower spray but couldn't lift his hands to wash himself, ate two bites of food, then went back to bed.

 

A crack of thunder woke him up. Bruce squinted through bleary eyes for a while before finally registering the lightning and heavy rain visible through the window. A while later, he managed to drag himself upright, then just sat there on the edge of the bed for a while, listening to the wind pummel the house.

 

Then he shuffled to the kitchen for a drink. He could never seem to make it to the mainland these days, so he'd arranged to have his mail and supplies delivered, left in boxes on the dock so he wouldn't have to see or speak to whoever brought them.

 

Setting down the bottle, Bruce lurched out the front door and down the beach, not pausing when waves broke over his feet except to stumble. He walked as far as he could, hammered on every side by the force of angry water. He closed his eyes and pushed off every time his feet touched the bottom. His throat and nose stung, and he wondered if he'd have second thoughts about this when he started drowning.

 

He did, sort of, or rather his body did, struggling desperately to find air, but emotionally, he felt nothing. He gasped whenever his head broke water, and his throat burned even more fiercely when he practically inhaled rain. The ocean kept sucking him back under, and eventually, he died.

 

o.o.o

 

Or, he thought he did. He squinted in the harsh sunlight, throat and nose still on fire. He was once again lying half-naked on the beach, storm long over, and he was supposed to have drowned by now but somehow he _hadn't_ , and now he had to live another day with no children.

 

Dick was gone.

 

Jason was fucking dead.

 

Bruce closed his eyes again.

 

o.o.o

 

He was sunburned _again_ when he woke up, and he sighed as he dragged himself upright. His stomach roiled; his whole body hurt. He stared despondently down at himself, then frowned in confusion.

 

There were...tracks, a line of strange bruises running across his chest and upper left arm. Twisting, he could see that they continued on behind him, presumably across his back. Each individual mark was almost perfectly round. He wondered idly if he'd been abducted by aliens and then returned when they were done with him.

 

It took him maybe an hour to drag himself up the beach into some shade. He ended up falling asleep again on the front porch.

 

o.o.o

 

Bruce spent the next morning building a raft like a castaway in a novel. He pushed the cluster of wood into the water and hopped on top. He went out into deep water, then threw the plank he'd been using for a paddle as far as he could. He curled up on his raft and waited to die. He knew it would probably take a very long time, but he had plenty of that. Time was all he had left.

 

o.o.o

 

He wasn't sure what woke him up, but once his eyes were open, he couldn't go back to sleep. He rolled the other way and sighed. After a while, he frowned and sat up.

 

It felt like the raft was moving. Not drifting; _moving_ , slowly but purposefully. Bruce stared, trying to figure out whether the sensation was real or imagined. He tore out his pocket and set the scrap of cloth in the water beside the raft in order to have something to gauge by.

 

The raft _was_ moving, as if it had a silent, invisible, weak motor. Bruce frowned and stuck his hand in the water, dragging it around the whole perimeter, but he couldn't feel anything solid. He sat there in disbelief and watched the shore grow gradually closer and closer. There was one last, extra thrust, and the raft ground to a halt as it hit the sand, bobbing gently.

 

After a long moment, Bruce stood up. He turned and faced the sea, which was apparently sentient and refused to indulge his death wish. He raised his middle finger, then stomped up to the house to see if he had any alcohol left.

 

TBC

 

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 24 - Courage (rough draft 2)**

_Useless had to go up on land, and he was scared. No one went on land except to die. But Dick(ie) and Robin/Jason/Jay did not die, so maybe Useless wouldn't, either._

_But he was still scared._

_Useless rode the waves to the bare sand and then lay there, fingers scrunching into it. He crawled, pushing with his tentacles and pulling with his arms. He crawled and crawled, feeling light and bare and unsafe. There was nothing here to protect him, nothing to hide in._

_He traveled past the reach of the waves and the sand started to...stick. To his fingers, his belly, his tentacles; itchy grains sticking and not going away, no water to wash them off._

_He hated the feeling, and he was scared. But...he had to keep going, because B/Dad/Bruce was too sad, and he did not want B/Dad/Bruce to be sad and die._

_After a while, the sand stopped being just uncomfortable and started to make him feel sore. His hands hurt, dragging along, and his tentacles hurt, trying to stick to and explore things and getting scraped. 'Keep going,' Useless thought. It would be okay (probably...) once he found B/Dad/Bruce._

_There was the tall thing, the not-rocks, so colorful and strange. Useless paused and stared at it, quivering. 'Humans are inside.' One human. B/Dad/Bruce was inside. B/Dad/Bruce was a human. There were supposed to be humans in the thing. Useless already knew he was going to a place with humans, so it was stupid to be so scared._

_He crawled and crawled. His tentacles were so tired and hurt that they were dragging now, limp. His fingers and palms hurt, his skin was raw and itched and hurt. He hurt._

_The brown stuff was worse than the sand. It bit little tiny teeth into him that wouldn't let go. Useless whimpered and looked at his scratched up hands and tentacles and belly. He touched the opening-thing, but it didn't open. He wanted to cry because he was so stupid._

_The not-rocks thing made lights when there were people inside. Useless dragged himself back to the sand, stinging and sticking, and looked up, searching for lights. There was a light, up. High._

_He lay his head down on the sand, wanting to die. He couldn't reach. He had come to stop B/Dad/Bruce from dying, but now he was dying instead. He really was useless, useless._

_He made his arms move again. He pulled himself under a bit of shelter, curled up, and waited to die._

 

TBC

 

A/N: They are technically called "arms," but I need a way to distinguish his human arms from his mer ones, so I'm going with "tentacles" for the latter.


	24. Chapter 25 - A Satisfactory Purchase | Chapter 26 - Stripped

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 25 - A Satisfactory Purchase (rough draft 2)**

 

Gotham was a foul city and Talia would normally have left an ordinary mission like this to subordinates. However, when something concerned the wellbeing of her child, she would rather oversee things in person, thus did she now find herself subject to the oily negotiations of a distasteful man called Barnabas Holt.

 

"Ah - I am _deeply_ sorry, Miss Al Ghul, but I'm afraid we don't have any little ones available at the moment. However, if I could interest you in--"

 

"You told me you'd recently procured a pup," she said icily. The whole reason she'd come in person was so that she could inspect the selkie pup for herself before purchasing it, but if the only productive thing they'd get out of this visit was taking down these vile poachers, she could have let her men handle it.

 

"Ah - I'm afraid there was a little misunderstanding--"

 

"Show me your wares," she demanded.

 

"Certainly, Miss Al Ghul."

 

Holt led the way through his filthy warehouse where the poor creatures in his inventory either cursed at the newcomers or shrank back in fear.

 

A couple of thugs were idly patrolling, but off to the side, an unarmed woman was standing beside an open cage, shouting at a bound captive who lay on the floor. He shouted back, and she drove her foot into his gut. The action was repeated twice more as Talia was registering the fact that the abused creature was small, a _pup_ , and then her voice was ringing out in command: "Stop!"

 

The other woman's head came up, her expression fierce.

 

"Sheila, dear," Holt said in a very strained voice, his smile tight, "I thought you were taking him to the back."

 

"I will when I'm done," Sheila snapped.

 

"Holt," Talia said in a tone that prompted him to bow repeatedly, "you lied to me."

 

"Ah, I-- If you recall, most honored madam, I said there were no pups _available_ for sale--"

 

Talia didn't hear the rest because Sheila had started kicking again, circling around when the pup curled up in an attempt to protect himself. Talia strode forward, using her own foot to hook the pup out of the other woman's reach and shove him back behind her. She planted her foot on his back and faced down his tormentor challengingly. "I am purchasing this creature. Touch him again at your peril."

 

"He's not for fucking _sale_ ," Sheila snapped.

 

"Holt," Talia called without breaking eye contact, "how much?"

 

"I'm _very_ sorry, Miss Al Ghul, but I'm afraid that's one's not--"

 

"Alternatively, I can take him at no monetary charge in exchange for ordering my men to _not_ raze your operation to the ground."

 

Sheila shrieked in outrage, but Holt gulped and then named an outrageously high price.

 

"Done," Talia said at once. She would get the money back soon enough, and probably more besides, when they dismantled the trafficking operation and seized control of their assets.

 

Sheila came at Talia, but had barely taken two steps before a ninja calmly nerve-struck her and she dropped to the floor.

 

The pup was squirming under Talia's boot. "Get the fuck _off_ me, bitch!"

 

Talia removed her foot, only to use it to push him toward one of her men as she nodded. The pup started struggling to rise but screamed when a needle entered his flesh. "No! No! You can't, my dad will fucking ransom me, just call my dad and he'll pay to get me back, please, you can't _do_ this, please...!"

 

His panicked, tear-streaked little face was hard to look at, so as Talia waited for the sedative to take effect, she inspected the rest of him. Although he wasn't exactly clean, he didn't seem dirty enough to be homeless, and his clothes, though simple, were from an expensive brand, which increased the chances of him being in good health. His pelt, which had taken the form of a bright red hooded sweatshirt, was pristine. The hood had been taped down, probably to prevent the pup from transforming and escaping his bonds.

 

"Please," the pup begged, whispering now as he fought sleep. "My family's looking for me. They're rich, you don't want to piss them off. Please, I'm worthless and these conmen are just ripping you off, please...I can't...I'm worthless...."

 

Talia laid a hand on the side of his face and stroked her thumb across his soft, damp cheek. Not even a twitch of reaction; he was out. She straightened and nodded to her men, who picked up the selkie and took him away.

 

In the car, Talia cut the restraints on the pup's wrists so she could remove his pelt and then the tape that restricted it.

 

 _"My lady,"_ the ninja on her other side spoke up, looking up from her phone, _"local law enforcement has mobilized much faster than we anticipated. Apparently this pup belonged to an influential family and someone connected his abduction to the trafficking ring."_

 

 _"Move up our timetable."_ They would need to extract whatever spoils they could to please her father before the locals descended and finished the job for them.

 

_"Yes, my lady."_

 

Talia returned her attention to the garment in her hands. She concentrated, and after a moment, the sweatshirt sluggishly shifted to its true shape, looking like a cloak made of auburn-and-brown fur. It was unusually resistant, suggesting that it did not change shape often.

 

No matter; it was a very fine specimen, and would work quite well for her research. All things considered, she was glad she had come.

 

TBC

 

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 26 - Stripped (rough draft 2)**

 

**A/N: Lots of trigger warnings for this chapter. I think they're all in the Work tags except for non-consensual (but non-sexual) undressing by strangers.**

 

o.o.o

 

Jason had never been so scared in his life. Maybe it only felt that way because he'd finally thought he was safe or something, but right now, being pinned down on the dirty floor of a van as men cussed at him and tied him up painfully tight, it _felt_ like he'd never been more scared in his life.

 

He was being restrained so hard that he literally couldn't move, but he cussed back for all he was worth until they taped his mouth shut.

 

At last they let go of him, when his arms and legs were bound and he almost hurt too much to move. He groaned and moved anyway, forcing himself to roll over and sit up.

 

He leaned back against the side of the van and glowered at the two thugs, who grinned back at him and threw a slew of insults at him until they tired of that and started playing phone games.

 

Jason fiercely resisted his tears. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd been held captive. This time, though, he knew what he was in for, and he felt sick as he thought of the cage that was coming, and the screaming and crying from other captives, and...when eventually he'd be cut into pieces, because most people who wanted slaves wanted mer, not seals, and he was no good to anybody alive....

 

He'd been-- he'd been good to Bruce alive. Bruce had...wanted him. Bruce had been...so gentle, always, both before and after he found out Jason was a freak, both when Jason had been cute and furry and when he'd been not cute at all.

 

Jason shivered and couldn't hold the tears back anymore. Bruce...cared about him, he couldn't deny that. Bruce was always, always saving him, since the moment they met. Maybe...maybe Bruce would save him this time, too....

 

That _bitch_ had hurt him, though. The gunshots had started up and Bruce had freaked out, engulfing Jason with his body so that Jason felt safe from stray bullets but also kind of smothered and panicked because he couldn't move. Bruce hadn't responded to anything he shouted, either, and then _Sheila_ had bashed Bruce over the head and there was blood, and Jason's human shield had slid away.

 

And then Jason wished he was still being smothered because then those thugs had come and dragged him, taken him away from his _dad_ , thrown him into this fucking textbook Stranger Danger van and tied him up, they were going to kill him and he'd never see his...family...again.

 

Jason was sobbing now, struggling frantically to stop because the fucking gag and all the snot in his nose meant he couldn't fucking _breathe_.

 

He nearly suffocated to death right there in the van, and when it stopped and they dragged him into a warehouse and ripped off the tape, he was too grateful to fight when they cut his bonds and threw him into a cage.

 

It took him a long time to calm down. When he finally raised his head, exhausted, he found the familiar sight of a dim warehouse filled with cages and tanks, a couple of guards playing cards in the middle.

 

The woman in the cage next to his, noticing him stirring, murmured, "Hey, kiddo."

 

"How often do they come for us?" Jason asked.

 

She shrugged. "Depends. Sometimes we lose two or three a day, sometimes nothing happens for a couple of weeks." She squinted. "You got transferred or something?"

 

"I escaped last time. They caught me again," Jason said miserably. " 'Cause of that _bitch_."

 

The woman's face twisted. "She's a seal, too, you know," she growled. "Fucking traitor turned human, sniffs us out and _delivers_ us right into their hands."

 

"I know!" Jason exclaimed, sharing in her rage. "All she had ta do was sign the fucking papers, but she tricked my dad and now...and now...!" He grew too choked up to speak.

 

"You miss your dad?" the woman asked, her voice softening.

 

"He's not really my dad," Jason sniffled. "Jus'...jus' some random guy who saved me when they stole my pelt, an' saved me again when I got stuck in a trap, an'...he _knew_ , but he was still so _nice_ , he...he was gonna adopt me, but she wouldn't sign the papers and then she _stole me_ , right outta my dad's fucking arms...!"

 

"Ssshhh, honey," she crooned as he cried again. "Ssshhh."

 

"She hit him," Jason choked out. "I hope...he's okay...he was bleeding, she knocked him out...I hope he's okay...."

 

That night, Jason jerked out of a doze when he heard the warehouse door opening. The captives stirred. The guards looked up, and Sheila gestured with her head. They all sighed and complained, but hauled themselves to their feet and followed after her. They made their way down the cages and stopped in front of Jason's.

 

"Whaddaya want, bitch?" he snapped, glaring.

 

"I'm going to watch while they cut you up," she said calmly.

 

"Fuck you!"

 

The guards opened the cage and dragged him out. He fought, but they easily overpowered him and tied him up. "Why are you DOING this?!" Jason screamed at her. "I didn't do ANYTHING to you! I didn't do _anything_! I'm not him!!"

 

"Give me a minute," Sheila snapped at the guards, who backed off and moved so they could see the TV again. The woman glared down at Jason. "Why the hell did you come to that meeting? Wasn't it obvious I never wanted you?"

 

"You were supposed to sign the papers! That's ALL you had to fucking do!"

 

"Why the hell would anyone want to _adopt_ you? He didn't need papers to do whatever he wanted to fucking do with you."

 

"He needed papers to be my FUCKING DAD, _that's_ what he wanted to do with me, you psycho!"

 

He wasn't prepared for her foot to embed itself in his gut, and the air was suddenly forced out of him. He was still wheezing to get it back when it happened again, and then again. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated as hard as he could on getting air to his lungs.

 

"STOP."

 

There were voices; Jason didn't bother listening to them. He was trying to remember how to breathe, trying to _keep_ the damn air in his lungs so it had time to do its job before skittering back out.

 

He'd only just managed it before he was kicked again. He curled up, trying to protect his stomach and chest, and flinched at the next blow.

 

Except this one was more movement than force, yanking him across the floor. A moment later, a weight hit his back, not hard enough to be painful but firmly enough to press him into the floor. It took him a second to realize she was fucking _standing_ on him.

 

...It wasn't Sheila, though. It was some other bitch who talked like she thought she was a queen.

 

Maybe she was, if she could afford to pay that much for him.

 

He squirmed in alarm, not sure whether it was worse to stay in this hellhole where his own mother wanted to cut him up, or to go with an owner whose plans for him were a complete unknown. It was entirely possible he'd been bought as a culinary delicacy. "Get the fuck _off_ me, bitch!"

 

To his surprise, she did, but only so her people could stick a needle into him. He panicked, but the drug was inexorable and his new owner was completely unmoved by his begging. He cried as he lost consciousness, wondering if he would ever wake up.

 

o.o.o

 

He did wake up, eventually.

 

The first thing he noticed was that he felt naked. He wasn't literally naked, so it took him a minute to realize that the reason he felt that way was because _his pelt was gone_.

 

Complete panic instantly overtook him. He flung himself to his feet and searched the room like crazy, looking for his pelt.

 

It wasn't there. It wasn't _anywhere_ , they'd _taken his fucking pelt_. He sank to his knees and couldn't fucking breathe, the panic froze his lungs and he couldn't get a breath in, no matter how hard he tried. He was dying. He was going to _fucking die_ because they'd ripped away his skin and now he couldn't breathe.

 

He didn't know if he lost consciousness or just lost time, but at some point, he blinked and became aware of his surroundings again. His chest hurt, and his throat and eyes and nose. His head started pounding as he sat up.

 

The room was small, either a crappy bedroom or a decent cell. The single small window had bars on it, there was a bedside table with a freaking _pitcher and washbasin_ like he'd time-traveled to the past, a built-in shelf with a little collection of books, a small table, a plain chair, and a wardrobe in the corner. The wardrobe doors were open, the contents spilled across the floor in his frenzied, fruitless search. It hadn't had much in it, just a few adult-sized outfits that looked like costumes for a ninja movie and some toiletries in a drawer.

 

Come to think of it, the clothes Jason was wearing now looked like they came from a dōjō or something. He plucked at them with shaking hands, and it occurred to him that someone would have had to change him into them. Horrified, he tugged frantically until he could see his underwear, and discovered that he was _not_ wearing the underwear he'd put on back at the manor - it was some weird garment that looked homemade. Someone would have seen him naked while they changed him into it, and he was going to be sick.

 

Once he'd managed to gulp down the nausea, he stood shakily and hobbled to the door. Of course it was locked. He pounded on it and shouted until he was hoarse, then kept beating his fists against the wood even after he lost his voice. When his hands hurt too much to continue, he slid to his knees and hid his face against the arm still braced against the door, feeling his eyes brimming with tears.

 

He wanted to go _home_. He wanted his _dad_. He wanted his brother and the ocean and their big quiet house by the beach, he wanted his books and his own clothes and his _fucking pelt_ and his _entire life_ , he wanted his life back, he wanted _everything_ back and he would never complain or misbehave again if they just returned his pelt and gave him...back...to his dad...!

 

o.o.o

 

There was an honest-to-God chamber pot under the bed. There was nothing else it could be. Jason stared at it, unable to think of any other use for the thing when it had been set in that specific location. He'd seen it while tearing the room apart earlier, but hadn't given any thought to its function until now, when he _really_ had to pee.

 

Maybe he was wrong and it wasn't a chamber pot, but if so, then too bad. His captors deserved to have their random ceramic pots filled with pee.

 

o.o.o

 

Most of the books on the shelf were in Arabic. A few were in other languages, and only six of them were in English. Of these, there was the Quran, two books of poetry, a book about how toxic and damaging pesticides were, a book about the link between capitalism and climate change, and a book about the impact of discarded plastic.

 

Jason was making his way through one of the poetry books when the door finally opened. He started and jumped to his feet, flexing his hands around the book as he considered whether to throw it, but it was too late now. He needed to find something better to weaponize.

 

The person who came in was a woman who didn't look at Jason as she set a tray of food on the little table. "Hey!" he practically yelled at her, "Where am I?! What's--" He suddenly realized that she hadn't locked the door behind her. Without pausing to think twice, he bolted out of the room.

 

He heard her shouting behind him in a language that wasn't English, but that didn't matter. He needed to find his pelt and then _get out_ of this place, maybe find a phone and call Bruce (now he was _really_ thankful that Bruce had forced Jason to memorize his cell number rather than just relying on speed dial like normal people).

 

He tore down the hallway, which looked like it was made of stone and had tapestries hanging on the walls. He ignored the shouts of other people he passed, but then two men with swords loomed up and seized him. He kicked and shrieked and fought, but they steadily dragged him back the way he'd come and practically threw him back into his room, locking the door behind them.

 

Jason spent as long as he could pounding on the door again, yelling to be let out. When he couldn't keep it up anymore, he dragged himself over to the tray that had been delivered and hesitated. He was tempted to hurl the food out the window, but he was _really_ hungry and he couldn't bring himself to waste food. Once his mind was made up, he wolfed it down. It was fairly bland but filling, high quality considering it was for a prisoner.

 

Once Jason had finished, he sat there for a while, considering. He wanted to make a mess, but it occurred to him that it likely wouldn't be his captors who'd have to clean it up. This operation, whatever it was, was big enough to employ what looked like servants, and he didn't want to make more work for them when they probably had nothing to do with why he was here.

 

No, he needed to figure out who owned him now, talk to her and try to reason with her. Or bribe her with Bruce's money or whatever. And he needed his _pelt_. He needed to _not be a prisoner_ , but he couldn't even _do_ anything if there was _no one around_ to persuade...!

 

o.o.o

 

Jason eventually fell asleep, but woke up in a panic at the sound of the door opening. He was on his feet immediately. "Hey! The lady who took me from the warehouse, I need to talk-- HEY! Get your fucking hands off me!" The guards continued to propel him forward like they didn't even register his attempts at resistance, and the softer-looking man who accompanied them impatiently scolded Jason in not-English. "LET GO!"

 

They didn't until they reached their destination, which turned out to be a tiled room with drains and elegant showerheads, as well as pictures on the wall and potted plants like a really fancy locker room. The robed man bustled around for a minute and then came back, thrusting a set of folded towels and a basket of toiletries at Jason.

 

Jason stared at the man, then at the stuff. He reluctantly accepted it, then waited to be left alone to bathe.

 

None of the men moved. The servant was starting to look impatient again. "Well, are you gonna scram so I can shower?" Jason growled. The man sighed and then reached out and--

 

Started.

 

Pulling off Jason's clothes.

 

"What the FUCK?!" the boy shrieked, dropping the towels and crap so he could grab his own shirt in an attempt to keep it on.

 

There was a moment of struggle, then the guards were suddenly there, and they made very short work of his clothes. Jason started screaming in a panic when they got his shirt off, but once the rest of him was exposed, he froze. He couldn't move, couldn't make a sound, could barely even breathe as he stood there naked and trembling.

 

The servant impatiently pushed him to stand under one of the showerheads. Jason managed to lower a hand to cover his junk, couldn't help wrapping his other arm around himself as if he was cold. The room was rather warm, but he still felt...cold.

 

After a long pause, the servant finally burst into an angry tirade and turned on the water. Jason flinched at the sudden spray of cold water and tears started to spill down his cheeks even though the temperature soon warmed up. He broke down and cried openly as the servant started washing him, impatiently scrunching shampoo through his hair and scrubbing soap over his skin.

 

"Don't...touch me...don't fucking...touch me...!" he managed to choke out, but couldn't bear to push the man away because that would require uncovering himself.

 

Once he was clean, the servant shut off the water and practically threw a towel over him. The guards had to pick him up and carry him into the next room, which was uncomfortably warm and steamy and contained several naked men lounging in a huge hot tub. Jason barely had time to struggle before the towel was pulled away and he was set into the painfully hot water.

 

He choked out a curse and tried to hoist himself out of the tub, but the servant shoved him back in and then exploded, shouting a long scolding lecture that Jason didn't understand a word of. The boy miserably endured it, legs curled to his chest as he stared at the water. The servant finally shoved at Jason's head in disgust, snapped out an order to the guards, and marched away.

 

The room was dead silent for a long moment. Then whispers and murmurs started up, many in languages Jason didn't know. Someone moved close to him, and he jerked away in alarm.

 

"Easy, now," the man soothed in accented English, raising his hands. His face was rugged but had a kind expression. "You're just a child.... Are you new?"

 

"I was _kidnapped_ ," Jason spat. "This a sex trafficking ring or something?"

 

The man stared at him. "Er...no. We are...'guests' of the Demon's Head."

 

"The _what_ now?"

 

"Ra's al Ghul. The man's on a mission to save the planet, which would all be very well and good if he saw us as people who can turn into seals, rather than intelligent seals who sometimes take human form."

 

Jason stared at him.

 

"It's not so bad," the man said reassuringly. "We're _favored_ prisoners, get decent food and nice baths and such."

 

"I was kidnapped _out of my dad's arms_ ," Jason ground out. It had not escaped his notice that the man, who'd implied he was a selkie, was wearing nothing and therefore could not possibly have his pelt on.

 

"Ah...for what it's worth, I really am sorry to hear that," the man said. "But...you know, there's nothing any of us can do about it, so might as well enjoy what you've got now, right?"

 

"Fuck you!" Jason shouted, slamming his palm into the water so that hot liquid splashed into the man's face.

 

The man swore and moved away, but now the guards were approaching. Jason had barely moved to try to dodge before they seized him and hauled him out of the water. He screamed and struggled madly, aghast to be completely exposed again and in front of a larger audience this time. He was hauled into the next room, which looked like a sort of dressing room, and the same servant from before was marching toward him with some kind of stick in his hand.

 

The man seized Jason and slammed him facedown over a bench, then started whipping him with the stick. There were less than ten blows, but the first few were administered so viciously that Jason screamed in agony. All the fight had gone out of him by the time the man finished up with the last few perfunctory strikes and then tossed him aside onto the floor.

 

Jason sobbed, having no will to resist as two nervous-looking boys barely older than he was struggled to get him dressed again. He kicked weakly when the fabric brushed his throbbing butt and legs, but at least it was some sort of robe instead of pants, and there was no underwear this time.

 

One of the guards hauled him up and carried him to his room-- his _cell_ , setting him on the bed when they arrived. Jason groaned and rolled onto his stomach as the door was closed and locked. "Fuck...you...fuck _all_ of you...!"

 

o.o.o

 

He snapped out of a doze when the door opened again, admitting the two guards, the child abusing servant, a middle-aged woman in a strict hijab, and an old woman with a much looser headscarf and a bag. Jason had been lying still for a long time, so he felt stiff and a little ill as he tried and failed to get up. He screamed when the guards took hold of him again, even though this time they didn't drag him anywhere. They held him facedown on the bed as the old woman shifted aside his robe.

 

"Oh, _hell_ no," he snarled, but couldn't do anything to stop her from examining the welts on his bare butt and legs.

 

The old woman turned and started forcefully scolding the manservant, who protested whinily but eventually threw up his hands and stalked away. The two women exchanged a few terse words, then the younger one left as well. The older one turned back to the bed and rummaged in her bag for a minute, then started rubbing something on the injuries. Jason yelled at the first touch of the thick cream, but even though it hurt at first, it felt better after a minute. She bandaged him and then packed up her stuff, saying something to him that he didn't freaking understand because all he freaking knew was freaking English.

 

Then the guards let go of him, and they all left.

 

Jason struggled to pull the robe over his butt again, then lay still. He wasn't sleepy at all, but he felt too tired to move.

****

TBC

 

A/N: So, like, Ra's al Ghul is a bad person, but I do appreciate that he cares about the environment. X'''D I wish heroes weren't so hypocritical, criticizing villains for their extreme responses to environmental problems but then not bothering to pursue more ethical solutions themselves. (I know that Barbara Gordon started a clean energy company, but as far as I know, that's about it.)

 

As someone with family members who are Christian immigrants from the Middle East, I appreciate the al Ghuls as the only fictional representation I've seen of non-Muslim Middle Easterners. The al Ghuls have never canonically expressed religious sentiments as far as I know, Talia dresses to enhance her sex appeal, and Ra's is far too egotistical and self-worshiping to bow to any god. The only reason I included a Quran in Jason's cell is because, while the al Ghuls themselves aren't religious, many of the people who work for them probably are, and their headquarters are in a Muslim-majority region.

 

*deletes rambling about hijab that doesn't have anything to do with the fic* I guess I'll just say that all the Middle Eastern women of my acquaintance ditched their hijab as soon as they stepped off the plane (they were still Muslim at the time). Perhaps you could chalk that up to most of them emigrating pre-9/11/01 when the political climate was different, except that even to this day, a large number of women back in their home country _only_ wear hijab because they're in serious danger of getting harassed, arrested, or possibly even killed if they don't. This is my personal context, so I find it very strange to see how many women in Western countries willingly wear strict hijab these days. (Of course they have the right to do so as long as they genuinely want to and are not pressured or forced into it; it's just...very different from my personal experience......)

 

Hopefully things have improved since then, but when my relatives were still living in their country of birth, child abuse was rampant and culturally normalized - abuse happened right out in the open, ranging from teachers slapping around their students to child brides being married off to men old enough to be their fathers. DX I can still see the effects of those emotional scars to this day. I really, really hope that things have changed for the better back there....


	25. Chapter 27 - Lifeline

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 27 - Lifeline (rough draft 2)**

 

Bruce woke up late in the morning feeling slow and tired, even after a long night's sleep. He lay in bed for nearly an hour, then dragged himself to the kitchen for coffee. He sipped at it, abandoned the rest, then trudged outside to watch the waves, the stupid ocean that had given him both the greatest joys and the greatest pain of his life. The sea was the true mother of his sons, and she was a jealous parent, wanting them all to herself. _'Screw you,'_ he thought dully as he looked out at the horizon.

 

He sighed and descended the porch steps, his head hanging, then came to a stop at the bottom, finally realizing that the sand was...moving. Bits of it kept twitching and curling a little like it was alive.

 

Bruce frowned and crouched down to get a better look. There were...tendrils, thick ones, camouflaged against the sand. His eyes traveled along to where the strips of rubbery flesh all came together and then transitioned into pale, flaking skin. A torso with two human arms. And farthest away, two dull eyes, watching him in fear and resignation from the shadows under the porch steps.

 

"Oh my...God." Bruce, suddenly shaking and on high alert, fumbled in mer-sign, _"Safe, quiet, safe."_ He scrambled around to the other side and reached gingerly under the strange mer's armpits, drawing them out into the open as gently as possible.

 

The little mer started to breathe rapidly, gills frantically working, tentacles twitching and curling more urgently.

 

The child's skin was as dry as a human's, and littered with abrasions.

 

"Oh my God...! Okay-- Okay, kiddo, it's okay, I'm going to pick you up now. I won't hurt you." Bruce, with difficulty because the octopus-mer's center of gravity was so weird, hefted the child into his arms. The little creature started shivering, a dry tentacle curling around Bruce's leg. "Okay, kid, okay, we're going, let's get you into some water, kiddo, let's get you some water...."

 

Bruce rushed to the back of the house and set the little octo-mer into the pool, which was already filled with saltwater because it had basically been Dick's bed. The child sank and lay at the bottom, tentacles drifting.

 

Bruce, despite having raised two children who could breathe underwater, nevertheless felt panicked and submerged himself, laying a hand on the mer's chest until he was sure it was rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Then he surfaced, retrieved his phone, and called the king of Atlantis.

 

"ARTHUR. I FOUND AN OCTOPUS CHILD DYING UNDER MY PORCH STEPS; WHAT DO I DO."

 

Less than ten minutes later, Arthur and Mera were rushing up the beach. They jumped into the pool without pausing to speak to Bruce, and he could see them descending to where the strange mer lay.

 

The child, who had been still until now, finally moved. Bruce could see their shape under the water, moving away from the Atlanteans. As Bruce was frowning, trying to figure out what that meant, a trembling tentacle tip rose up, felt around, and latched onto Bruce's leg. The rest of the creature slowly followed until the little mer was shaking in Bruce's lap, five tentacles clinging to him tightly enough to bruise, the three remaining tentacles sweeping continuously through the water like sentries. One trembling hand clutched Bruce's shirt; the other felt across the deck, shying away from the unfamiliar surface.

 

The Atlanteans had surfaced and were staring. "They're almost legend even for _us_ ," Mera said faintly. "We thought they'd gone extinct."

 

"We're not gonna hurt you, kiddo," Arthur crooned.

 

Apparently unconvinced, the child started trying to find a way into Bruce's shirt. They had not made eye contact with any of the adults at any point.

 

"Why do they trust _me_?" Bruce wondered in bewilderment, unbuttoning his shirt to give the child easier access and then re-buttoning it over the mer's small body. The child, now thinking themself safe and hidden, had finally gone still again except for the three slowly sweeping tentacles. "I'm a human."

 

"Hell if I know," Arthur sighed. "What _happened_ , Bruce?"

 

"I don't know! I was just coming outside and _found_ them. Under my porch, extremely dehydrated." Now reminded, Bruce, awkward because of his load, slipped into the pool so the mer would be submerged again. "Did they crawl up from the sea? I didn't have a chance to check for a trail."

 

"He's male, by the way," Mera said. Judging by Arthur's expression, he hadn't been able to tell any more than Bruce had.

 

Investigation revealed that the merboy did, indeed, seem to have emerged from the ocean, headed straight for the house, and explored a bit before retreating under the steps.

 

"This is not normal," Mera stated. Two little eyes, gazing out from Bruce's collar, abruptly retreated deeper into the shirt as she stared. "This is _unheard of_. Octo-mer hide even from _us_ , they never go anywhere near the surface. Yet it's almost like he...."

 

"Sought me out?" Bruce suggested quietly. He was wet and cold from standing in the unheated pool for so long and sheltering the creature right against his body, but Bruce's concern and fascination dulled the discomfort.

 

"I wonder if he's been watching you," Arthur remarked, peering into the collar. Bruce winced as the mer forced his way around to the back of the shirt to escape scrutiny. "If he's seen firsthand how you treated Dick and--"

 

"I know," Bruce snapped, not wanting to hear his murdered son's name spoken so casually. "He might have...known to expect good care." Though the merboy must have been absent these past few weeks, to have missed the wreck Bruce was in the wake of what had happened to Jason. "Do octo-mer need parents? I don't think actual octopuses do."

 

"I am under the impression that adults do not stay long to raise their young," Mera said, "but we know almost nothing about them that has been scientifically proven."

 

The Atlanteans soon left to consult some experts, sensing that they weren't helping much even though Bruce was glad to have had someone around to take the edge off his panic. Once he and his new charge were alone again, the boy cautiously ventured out of the shirt. He stuck close to Bruce's feet for a while, clinging as he looked around the pool for threats.

 

Finally convinced there were none, the little mer climbed up Bruce's body and cautiously emerged from the water. They stared at each other for a while, then the child reached up to rest a single fingertip on Bruce's face.

 

"My name is Bruce," Bruce said softly.

 

The mer hissed air between his teeth that sounded like a voiceless approximation: _"Hhoo."_

 

"Bruce."

 

 _"...P'sss,"_ he tried again.

 

"Can you speak?" Bruce murmured. Of course the mer couldn't answer, and he wasn't about to stick a mirror down the kid's throat to check for vocal cords, so he almost immediately lost interest in the question. In fact, now that the adrenaline was dying down, he was kind of losing interest in everything. "...Well. Let's get you back home, kiddo."

 

Carrying the little octo-mer was rather awkward. The kid didn't have much of either a butt or solid body mass beneath the waist, so Bruce basically had to wrap his arms around the kid's chest like a child with a cat. The mer's tentacles immediately latched onto him, making it hard to walk, too. "For God's sake...." Bruce went through the long, painstaking process of peeling the kid off him and back into the pool, then went to look for a wagon. When he came back, he found that the mer had left the pool and was now studying the glass of the back door in fascination, tapping a fingernail against one of the panes and squelching tentacle suckers across it.

 

"All right, kid, come on." He picked up the awkward bundle of damp, rubbery octo-mer and gently dumped him in the wagon. "All right, let's go." He'd only taken a few steps when the wagon suddenly lurched to a stop. There were thumping sounds and the sensation of rapid weight distribution. Bruce looked back and was aghast to find a tentacle wedged between one of the wheels and the underside of the wagon, the little mer writhing and thrashing in silent agony.

 

"Oh my G--!" Bruce quickly freed the tentacle and the mer whipped it close, clutching the injury with both hands and curling over it. The remaining tentacles were either waving or clutching onto the wagon and Bruce's arm in distress. "You need to keep your limbs clear of the wheels, do you understand? Otherwise, they'll get caught."

 

A few steps later, it happened again. The child, clutching two tentacles now, peered up at Bruce miserably.

 

Bruce gritted his teeth, then yanked off his shirt and, with some difficulty, gathered up the tentacles. He used his shirt to tie them all together, then straightened up. The mer stared at his bound limbs, the ends wriggling madly, then up at Bruce. His expression was mostly unchanged, but his teeth were obviously gritted, and then he hissed. One hand was working along the edge of the wagon, the other picking at the shirt.

 

"I'll take it off when we get to the water," Bruce snapped.

 

Shortly afterward, the wagon jerked to a stop again. Bruce closed his eyes for a second, then looked back. The mer was staring at his own hand, which was now scratched. His tentacles, though still bound, were writhing hard, and the shirt was already coming loose.

 

"All right. Look." Bruce grabbed a piece of driftwood, poked it demonstratively at the wheel, then tossed it in the wagon. The mer, whose entire body had, disconcertingly, gone the same bright red color as the wagon, cautiously touched it. "If you _have_ to go poking at dangerous things, use something other than your own body parts."

 

When he set off again, he soon felt renewed obstructions, but when he glanced back, he found that this time the mer was indeed using the piece of driftwood to explore the wagon. Whenever it got yanked out of his hands, he'd scoop it up with a tentacle and go back to poking. The shirt lay limply under the boy's freed limbs.

 

At the water's edge, Bruce sighed once more, then reached to pick up the child, who tightly latched onto him. He waded out about waist-deep and worked on detaching the mer again, but every time he freed himself from one or two limbs, others would take their place.

 

"Kid, I need you to go _home_. Go away." He signed it in Dick's language and also made expressive gestures, but the boy's face remained blank. He tried just walking back to the house, but the boy wouldn't let go, and he couldn't in good conscience keep letting a child who looked about seven or eight years old literally drag across the sand after him. He stopped and breathed deeply for a while, trying to rein in his temper.

 

He got distracted because the kid was climbing up him again, looking ridiculous doing it in open air rather than water. It took several minutes for Bruce to even grasp the boy and work him into a position where he could hold him fairly comfortably. The boy stared back at him, hands resting on his shoulders, two tentacles wrapped tightly around his legs and two more around his arms and another exploring his hair and the rest fiddling with beach debris.

 

"I don't want you. You need to go _home_ ," Bruce said, slowly and clearly.

 

The boy started signing in an elaborate language Bruce didn't recognize, some of his tentacles gesturing as purposefully as hands. All Bruce got out of it was his name, _"P'sss,"_ exhaled a few times amidst the child's other voiceless whispers. The boy was squinting in the morning sunlight.

 

Bruce sighed deeply and decided to wait until the creature was asleep before attempting to get rid of him again. He carried the octo-mer back to the house, dragging the empty wagon after him, and only once they were inside did the mer finally release him, slithering to the floor and looking around in wonder.

 

"Here." Bruce fetched some of Dick's old toys, feeling a pang at the reminder of one of his lost sons, and offered them to the octo-mer. The boy took them and examined them.

 

Bruce brought in a kiddie pool and filled it with saltwater, then gestured. "If you get too dry or you get tired, you can climb in here and rest. I've used up my energy quota for today, so I'm going to sleep, probably for hours, because I lost my reasons for living and I can't deal with you right now." He paused, then went around to cover up all the electrical outlets and block off the stairs and shut all the doors except the ones that led out to the pool and the beach. With any luck, the kid would get bored and be gone by the time Bruce woke up again.

 

"Okay." In the living room again, Bruce put his hands on his hips. The child, still fiddling with the toys, stared up at him. "Okay," Bruce said again. "Good night. Good morning. It's all the same to me these days." He lay down on the couch and fell asleep.

 

o.o.o

 

Hours later, Bruce gradually blinked awake, stared at the ceiling for a while, then frowned in confusion when he heard clinking sounds. Suddenly remembering the little octo-mer, he sat up.

 

The room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Most of the books in the lower shelves had been pulled out and spread across the floor, as had a pile of newspapers and magazines; torn loose pages were strewn about. Baskets had been upended, their contents scattered; the couch pillows and throw blankets were all over the place; cabinets were open and empty because none of their contents were inside them anymore; there was water and cooking oil EVERYWHERE.

 

In the middle of it all, the ten-limbed child lay on his stomach, staring intently at a video playing on an old tablet. His hands were still, but two of his tentacles were working curiously at a Rubik's Cube; another was flipping through a set of measuring spoons; two more were tugging gently at Dick's cherished toy elephant; one was squirming in a bottle of olive oil; and the last two were playing through a tangle of electrical cords that, thankfully, were not plugged into anything.

 

Bruce made a strangled noise and the mer casually looked up. Then he must have interpreted Bruce's gobsmacked expression as angry, because the child's eyes widened. Swiftly, he backed away and undulated under a pile of debris, drawing more objects over himself until he was completely buried. His tentacles withdrew out of sight, and the pile concealing him went completely still.

 

It was...really freaking cute. The minute the thought came to mind, Bruce felt a stab of grief because there were two _other_ children who would never again make him smile with their adorable antics. He had to press his hands over his face to stop himself from crying, except it didn't work, so now he really was crying.

 

After a long time, when he'd stopped sobbing and was now just sitting there with tears leaking slowly down his cheeks, he felt a touch on his knee that startled him.

 

The octo-mer's little face was peering up at him. The measuring spoons were still clutched in a tentacle and another tentacle was playing with a remote control to an outdated machine, but most of the mer's attention was on Bruce. One of the free tentacles slid across his shoulders; a hesitant finger reached to poke gently at the tear tracks. The mer stared at his finger for a moment, then poked at Bruce's face again.

 

"I'm crying because I'm sad. I'm sad because I lost my sons."

 

The mer signed something.

 

"I don't know your language." Bruce sighed heavily. "This is mine, though." He said in ASL, _"I am very sad."_

 

The mer stared, eyes widening and tentacles going completely still for a moment. Then he resumed his usual slow but constant motion and attempted to copy the ASL.

 

"I am very sad," Bruce repeated, both verbally and with his hands.

 

 _"I am very sad,"_ the mer imitated.

 

Bruce rested his face in his hand. "Why am I teaching you this? I can't teach you this. You don't need to know it, because you're going home soon."

 

He tried ignoring the mer for a while, which eventually worked. The boy slithered away and picked up more random objects with his tentacles. The limb with the measuring spoons lowered in front of his face, and intent eyes watched as the suckers adeptly maneuvered the spoons around and around the ring that held them together.

 

Bruce eventually found the strength to get to his feet and start cleaning up. He worked slowly, and there was something slightly soothing about the mindless work. It was at least an hour later when he discovered that the mer had fallen asleep in the kiddie pool, having pulled a blanket over the top. It couldn't have been for warmth, because the mer wasn't snuggled into it; it was simply draped over the pool like a shield, the rounded lump in the middle rising and falling with each breath.

 

After far too long, Bruce finally remembered how the mer had squinted in the bright light outside. He thought of deep, dark waters where octo-mer apparently liked to hide. Slowly, he reached for the blinds of the window he'd stupidly parked the pool right in front of, and he closed them.

 

Nothing changed, of course, since the mer was asleep, but the dimness made Bruce feel a bit better, in any case. He resumed cleaning.

 

Half an hour later, he suddenly remembered that this was his chance. Tense now, Bruce cautiously put his arms around the mer, blanket and all, and lifted him up. Water came cascading down, only about half of it landing in the pool, but Bruce didn't care. He laid the wet bundle in the wagon and pulled it outside.

 

Once he'd reached the edge of the sea, he looked and found that the mer was awake, sitting up but with the blanket still draped over him like the world's lamest ghost costume. When Bruce removed the makeshift sunshield, the mer flinched and covered his eyes with his hand. Bruce picked up the boy and carried him into the ocean.

 

The water came nearly up to his chest when he finally stopped. Two tentacles came to settle securely around him.

 

"No," Bruce said in exasperation, "you're supposed to swim away. Just let go and go _home_ , it's not difficult."

 

The mer brought up his other hand and cupped them around his eyes, squinting at Bruce's face from the little shaded shelter.

 

Bruce was prying away tentacles again. "Go _home_ ," he ordered.

 

A small fingertip reached up and rested on his furrowed brow.

 

"Stop being so fucking cute when I'm trying to be sad! Get off me!"

 

It soon became apparent that there was no way he and his measly two arms were going to prevail against someone who had _ten_ , two with thumbs and eight with suckers. Furious, Bruce stormed back to shore and then halted, closing his eyes in utter exasperation when he tried to stride across the sand and felt the heaviness of an eight-year-old child dragging in his wake. He looked down at all the tentacles wrapped tightly around his legs, then at the kid, who was simply sprawled behind him looking way too unperturbed at his undignified position.

 

"This is not normal behavior, you know," Bruce informed him. "For either of us."

 

_"I am very sad?"_

 

"Oh for--" Bruce stooped down and started peeling tentacles off his legs as quickly as he dared to without hurting the child. It worked just as effectively as it had the last several times he'd tried it, and his frustration reached its peak. "GET THE HELL OFF ME! YOU DON'T HAVE TO SPEAK ENGLISH TO TELL THAT I _DON'T WANT YOU_ , GO BACK TO THE FUCKING OCEAN WHERE YOU BELONG AND LEAVE ME THE HELL _ALONE_!"

 

He shoved down the guilt because his tirade had worked. The little mer was curled up surprisingly small, tentacles tightly balled up and both arms covering his head, perfectly still, his whole body the same color as the sand.

 

"There," Bruce muttered in a hollow voice. He stumbled away. "Don't follow me. Go home."

 

He eventually made his way back to the house, where he curled up in a corner and cried for a while, wanting to die. Then he stretched out his legs and sat there, staring dully at the wreck that was his home. He ought to finish cleaning it up. There was no point in cleaning it up.

 

He was half-seriously contemplating sleeping pills and alcohol when he shuffled past a window on his way to bed and paused. There was a lump out there, on the beach, about where he'd left the mer. He couldn't tell from this distance whether the mer was still lying there or if it was a bit of debris in about the same location.

 

Uneasily, Bruce started tidying. He kept pausing so often to look out the window that he started setting a timer, only allowing himself to look every ten minutes.

 

Most of the living room was picked up when he took his allotted glance out the window and was startled to see an unusual number of seagulls gathering around the lump on the beach. One of them started picking at it.

 

Bruce ran out the door and down the sand, scattering birds as he came to a halt beside the lump. It was...the mer. Still there. Looking _dead_.

 

Horror and panic surged up in Bruce; he fell to his knees and pressed his fingers against the boy's neck, deciding distractedly that if the child was dead, he himself would soon be following.

 

He felt a pulse. At his touch, the boy stirred and flinched, digging fingers into the sand, starting to pull away.

 

"Oh God...." Dehydrated again, probably traumatized because Bruce was a fucking monster, but alive. Bruce scooped up the mer and rushed to the pool with him, kneeling down to release him into the water. The mer drifted for one second, then shot to the farthest end of the pool and huddled as deep as he could get.

 

Bruce rubbed at his face, cursing himself. Then he went to get some fish.

 

He dropped one in and watched hopefully, but there was no reaction. Feeling sick with shame and anxiety, he dropped in another, trying to get it closer to the tiny dark lump at the bottom of the pool. After several long minutes, there was some movement, but he couldn't tell from this distance if the mer had actually taken the fish or not.

 

He didn't dare enter the pool himself, so he dropped another fish in, feeling helpless, trying to aim between the mer and where the first fish had come to rest. He was deeply grateful when the mer moved again toward the third fish, leaving the water behind him empty - hopefully that meant he'd eaten the second one.

 

Once the fish were gone, Bruce dropped in some weighted pool toys, then retreated into the house. He didn't...feel like doing anything, so he dragged a chair close to the back door and just watched, waiting to see if the little mer would venture out, until he fell asleep.

 

o.o.o

 

When he woke up, he was startled to find the mer pressed up against the glass of the back door, staring at him. He got up immediately to open it and the mer retreated.

 

"Hey," Bruce said gently, kneeling down. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. I'm not going to hurt you."

 

After a long moment, the mer, who'd gone the same color as the deck he was resting on, held out a trembling hand. In his fist was gripped one of the dead fish.

 

"Oh - no, kiddo, that's for you. I have my own food in the house. That's for you." Bruce reached to push the fish back toward him, but the mer flinched away. Feeling guilty and ashamed again, Bruce mimed eating. "That fish is for you to eat."

 

The mer briefly bared his teeth, the ends of his tentacles curling tightly for a moment. Then he held out the fish again and used both hands to pry it apart, exposing its insides. He narrowed his eyes at Bruce, then transferred the fish to a tentacle so he could set both hands on his own chest. He dug his fingernails into his flesh, right over his heart, and made the same motion as if to tear open his own chest. Of course he didn't do it in actuality, but he was still pressing hard enough to leave scratches in the wake of his nails.

 

"Don't do that," Bruce sharply, reaching again. The mer started to flinch back but then froze and lowered himself to press against the ground, shoulders hunched, staring up at Bruce. "Let me...get...."

 

Bruce went inside and came back out with the medicine he'd used to use for Dick's cuts and scrapes. The mer, upright now, watched as Bruce spread it over the scratches. "Don't hurt yourself like this."

 

After a long moment, the mer, not looking directly at him, touched a fingertip to Bruce's forehead and pressed hard. Bruce winced at the sharp pressure, but didn't pull away. He deserved a lot worse. "I'm not angry anymore. I was wrong."

 

After a moment, the mer's eyes slid to him. Then he formed a hook shape with his forefinger and stuck it in his own mouth, tipping back his head. He narrowed his eyes at Bruce.

 

"Oh God, I-- No one's going to-- fish you-- Is that what you're asking?" Neither of Bruce's children had ever seemed bothered by the practice of fishing. He'd never given any thought to what it must be like from the fish's perspective. He didn't see any scarring on the octo-mer's face, but just watching someone else get caught on a hook would be traumatizing in and of itself. "No one's going to hurt you. I acted like I was to try to drive you away, but obviously that didn't work, and I'll die before I let anyone hurt you." Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "You have no idea what I'm saying, do you."

 

He sighed and thought a moment. He considered acting it out, but if he was going to be gesturing, anyway, he might as well teach the child how to sign properly and eventually be able to tell him directly. _"I am sorry. I'm an idiot. You are a good person."_

 

The mer simply stared at him, making no response. Bruce got up, went into the house, grabbed the measuring spoons, and brought them back.

 

The mer stared at the offered spoons, then narrowed his eyes and took them. He glared up at Bruce as his grasping tentacle spun the spoons around and around their ring.

 

"I know you're angry and I know this doesn't-- I'm not trying to bribe you. I...." Bruce sighed and sat down again, pulling out his phone to place an order for a bunch of stim toys and fidgets. The mer crawled into the house, pointedly circling around him, and set about methodically wrecking the living room again. Feeling fond and guilty, Bruce crouched down a safe distance away and started saying and signing the words for each item the mer reached for. "Magazine. That's a magazine."

 

The mer eyed him, then grasped a page and slowly ripped it.

 

" _You_ are _tearing_ a _page_ of the _magazine_ ," Bruce explained.

 

The mer stared at him. Then he handed off the torn page to a tentacle, moved a little farther along, and reached for the electrical cords he'd had earlier, watching Bruce.

 

"Those are electrical cords."

 

After a long moment, the mer pointed at him. _"P'sss."_

 

"I am Bruce," Bruce said, signing the letter 'B.' "B. Bruce. That's me."

 

The mer made an exaggerated angry face before subsiding into his usual flat expression.

 

" _Angry_. I was angry, but now I'm not. I'm sad. I think you are angry. That's okay."

 

_"Angry."_

 

"Yes. I'm sorry."

_"B. Angry. Sad. Me."_ The mer glanced at him. _"Me?"_ Then he said in his voiceless whisper, _"Tti'ckie. Sshay."_

 

Bruce was...floored. "T-- Dickie? Jay?"

 

 _"Tti'ckie."_ He briefly brought all his tentacles together in a bundle and undulated like Dick in the water. _"Sshay."_ He mimed pulling something over his head.

 

"You...you really have been...watching us." Bruce felt numb. He didn't know how to _react_ to this.

 

_"Me?"_

 

Bruce ran a shaky hand over his mouth. "You want a name?"

 

The mer made a sign in his own language and then looked at Bruce expectantly.

 

"Um...." Bruce's head was suddenly entirely devoid of names. He grasped for some desperately, but the only ones that came to mind were 'Alfred,' 'Thomas,' and 'Martha.' He wrenched his thoughts aside, away from family to _anything_ else, movies, maybe, and the first thing he thought of was Timothy Spalding, the guest star of a recent _Gray Ghost_ episode he'd watched. "Timothy?" Too complicated; shorten it. "Tim? Do you like that?"

 

The mer cocked his head.

 

"Tim," Bruce said, pointing at him. _"I am B._ Bruce. You are Tim?"

 

 _"Me. Tt'mm."_ The mer eyed him.

 

"Yes. If you want it."

 

The mer turned away to look at his measuring spoons again.

 

"I think I have another set somewhere, let me get it...."

 

TBC

 

A/N: Tim was originally going to be a regular merboy like Dick (so was Jason), but then Breezy did some sketches for this AU and she made each Batkid a different species of mer, and Tim was an octopus which I thought was absolutely perfect, so I changed my version to match. :)

 

The plural of "octopus" is actually "octopuses," not "octopi."

 

This was one of my review replies, I figured it might be helpful to share in general:

 

I couldn't figure out how to convey this while writing in Bruce's perspective, but Bruce yelling at him actually triggered a bout in Tim himself. Tim thinks he's hated and a failure and is also kind of scared he might get killed (while at the same time wanting to die because he's so "useless" that he couldn't even do the one job he'd assigned himself). Obviously that doesn't happen, so then he finally gets tired of waiting to die and climbs out of the pool to track down Bruce, and the tearing-open-my-chest and the fish hook gestures translate to _"(angry) Why don't you just gut me already and get it over with? No? Oh, NOW you want to be all nice and gentle? You humans think you can do whatever you want to we sea people, we're just mindless fish to you to be painfully captured."_ Something along those lines, anyway. Then Bruce offers the olive branch and Tim accepts, but grudgingly.


	26. Chapter 28 - We Want You To Be Comfortable Here

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 28 - We Want You To Be Comfortable Here (rough draft 2)**

 

Over the next few days, Jason's biggest problem was that he was bored out of his skull. The only thing to do in his cell was read, but there were only a few books in English and none of them were the kind that could suck him in for hours. He didn't have any contact with other human beings except when he was given simple meals and let out once a day to bathe.

 

Thankfully, they never took him back to the fancy communal showers and tubs; instead, the manservant would lead him to an isolated pool, throw clean clothes and a basket of toiletries on the ground, sneer at Jason in not-English, then self-righteously stomp away. Jason got the distinct sense that he was being punished, but other than the water being lukewarm and the guards never leaving, he much preferred washing himself like this. He hid his body underwater from the guards, and although they watched him, it was with impassive expressions, and they never approached.

 

It felt...really, really strange to be so bare when submerged in water. The sensation made the loss of Jason's pelt hurt more keenly, and he often cried as he bathed.

 

Only one of Jason's captors spoke English (that he knew of), a middle-aged woman with a shiny headband who'd poke her head in every so often, glance around the room, and leave again.

 

"I want to go HOME!" Jason always screamed at her.

 

"Be quiet," she snapped the first time. "Demon Head is good. You be good."

 

"FUCKING NO! FUCK YOU!"

 

She frowned and shut the door.

 

The second time, when she saw him racing at her, she pulled out some ninja move and the next second, he was blinking at the ceiling in confusion. She'd shut the door again before he got his wits back together.

 

The third time, he was waiting for her. He'd torn up several of the non-English books and was sitting on the bed, trying to look smug, when she opened the door and saw the mess.

 

Her face twisted, and then there was a minute when she was chasing him around the room. He tried to dodge out the open door, but she caught him just outside the threshold and dragged him back in, giving him a few hard spanks. He winced and hissed between his teeth when one of her strikes hit a half-healed welt from the earlier beating, but she had nothing to use other than her hand and his clothes were still on, so the sting wouldn't last long.

 

She swung him back around and shook him a little, hissing a short tirade in her own language before demanding in English, "What is wrong with you?! You little devil, you spit in his face when Demon Head is kind to you!"

 

"I - want - my - DAD," Jason snarled. "I was KIDNAPPED. I want to go _home_ to my fucking _dad_. My father," he added, in case she didn't know the word 'dad.'

 

She stared at him. Then she let go. "...What is your age? How many years?"

 

"Fourteen," he said cautiously. He wasn't actually sure - they didn't exactly provide calendars here and he hadn't thought to keep track of passing days until it was too late, but whatever. If he wasn't fourteen yet, he would be soon.

 

The woman narrowed her eyes and studied him some more. "Seal father? He is in ocean?"

 

"No! My _human_ dad who's probably filed a police report about his kidnapped son! He's looking for me!" Jason...really hoped that Bruce was looking for him, at least.

 

The woman made a gesture like she had a headache and muttered something in her language, then said, "Demon Head bought you. You belong to him. You are seal. Animal. Yes?"

 

"I'm not a fucking animal! Just because I can turn into one doesn't mean I am one! And WHERE IS MY FUCKING PELT?! WHERE'S MY PELT?!" Jason seized the garment he was wearing and flapped it for emphasis.

 

The woman stared at him a moment more. Then she turned around to leave.

 

"Oh, no you don't!"

 

She did her ninja thing again. He was still on the floor, trying to figure out what had just happened, when the door shut and locked.

 

A little later, a girl came in to clean up the torn book pages. Jason tried to make another break for it, but the guards caught him almost immediately and dragged him back into his cell, dumping him on the bed and looming over him. The girl stared at him like he was crazy and kind of scary, and seemed on edge while she finished her task.

 

"I'm not crazy for trying to escape my fucking _kidnappers_!"

 

The girl flinched at his raised tone and worked faster, not looking at him.

 

o.o.o

 

That night, while he was trying to sleep, Jason was startled and frightened when the guards barged in. He thought for a minute that he was about to be assaulted and steeled himself to fight with everything he had, but instead of pinning him down, they swept him up and out of the cell instead.

 

It took Jason a minute to register that they were marching down the corridor. Then he sucked in a breath and squirmed, trying to escape their grasp, but they only tightened their hold and kept dragging him as if he weighed nothing. "Where are you taking me?!"

 

No answer. He swore and resisted until they finally stopped and...did something to him. He had no idea what, but he suddenly went boneless and would have fallen if they weren't still holding him. One of them tossed Jason over his shoulder and resumed walking, and Jason lay there dangling, terrified, unable to move, his body tingling.

 

He'd regained a small range of movement by the time they finally arrived, but was still pretty helpless. They flopped him back down, did something else to him, and then he could move again, the tingles growing painful. Jason groaned and sluggishly tried to pull away, but he was still figuring out how to command his body again when they dragged him into some sort of fancy sitting room, dumped him on a couch, and took up posts on either side of him.

 

Only one other person was in the room, the one who spoke English. She'd been pacing anxiously, muttering to herself, and now she stopped in front of Jason and pointed a stern finger at him. "Daughter of Demon Head. Great honor. You have respect of her - if you do not, you are _punished_ , understand?"

 

He swallowed. "Yes."

 

"She is very busy, very important. She is very kind for this time to speak to you devil animal. _Respect_. Understand?" she growled, seizing his chin and glaring fiercely at him.

 

"I _said_ I understand, bitch!" Jason growled back, yanking his face free. She gave him a hard slap, then went back to pacing.

 

Jason was kept waiting for a while, it felt like an hour but probably wasn't that long. Definitely at least twenty minutes, though. Then a very well-dressed woman opened one of the many doors, murmured something, and demurely stood aside.

 

The first lady jabbed her finger at the doorway and glared at Jason. Jason shot her the middle finger and got up, uncertainly approaching the doorway. The guards didn't follow.

 

The inner room appeared to be an office, filled with very tidily-organized books and papers, beautiful furniture, and tasteful decorations. At the large desk by a set of windows sat a woman, very beautiful but a little tired-looking, who was working on a computer as she sipped from a teacup.

 

Jason stopped in front of the desk and swallowed. This was the queen-like woman who'd bought him. He hated her by default, but she _had_ saved him from an even worse fate, and it had been made clear that she was a very important person. He'd probably be more successful playing nice than cussing her out like he wanted. "H-Hi. Th-those people in the warehouse kidnapped me, which is illegal, a-and the right thing to do would be to give back my pelt and let me go home to my dad."

 

The woman turned away from her computer and stared at him. She took a long sip of tea. Then she said in perfect English, with only a faint accent that was more British than whatever this place was, "Both my steward and my housekeeper keep complaining about you. They say you're too feral to even be trusted for exercise and socialization. Why do you keep causing so much trouble?"

 

He swallowed again. "I n-need my pelt. I'm a--" After a lifetime of desperately hiding what he was, he couldn't bring himself to just come out and say it. "I'm n-not human. I _need_ my pelt. S-Someone took it, and I, I r-really need it back and I really, really need to go back home to my dad. Please. I'll tell him not to send the police if you just let me go home, just p-please l-let me go home." The words were spilling out of him by the end, and he tried hard to keep the tears back but a couple slipped down his face anyway.

 

The woman was still staring at him. "You are our property," she finally said. "We have need of your pelt for our research, though it might eventually be returned to you. Your father...lives among humans?"

 

"My dad _is_ human," he said fiercely. "And keeping people as property is slavery, and that's illegal, too. You're going to be in a lot of trouble when the police find you, but y-you won't if you just let me go. You d-don't even have to take me home, j-just, I need enough money for...a p-plane ticket or-- just, I can get home myself if you help me, but I want...my dad...!" He couldn't hold the tears back anymore and broke down into sobs. He stood there completely humiliated as he tried to scrub away tears that _kept coming_ , and fought in vain to regain his ability to speak.

 

He heard her approach, and he startled when she grasped his jaw, tilting his face up to stare at it. He grabbed her wrist with both hands, terrified and uncomfortable, but didn't quite dare pull. She studied his face, frowning, until the snot dribbling out of his nose slid farther down and she hurriedly released him before it could touch her hand.

 

"Who is your father?" she asked.

 

"B-Bruce Wayne. He's r-rich, so he could pay a ransom?" He hated how his voice wavered, how his insides squirmed with anxious uncertainty, but it couldn't hurt to try. If Bruce refused to pay a ransom, Jason would be no worse off than before.

 

A strange expression crossed the woman's face. "Bruce Wayne? Of Gotham?"

 

"Y-Yeah."

 

That strange expression remained for a while as she considered this. Then her face cleared and she grew brisk and businesslike. "My steward says you're a pig who refuses to bathe and spits on the privileges offered to those in your position, and my housekeeper says you make a mess of your room and frighten the servants and show great disrespect to your betters. Do you have a defense?"

 

"I'm a PRISONER! And I'm fucking bored; what do you people fucking EXPECT?!?!"

 

She stared at him as if he'd surprised her. "You think the treatment you've received is how the Al Ghul family deals with its _prisoners_?"

 

"Um, let's see," Jason spat, ticking off points on his fingers. "Locked cell, guards, beatings, humiliation, nothing to fucking do but stare at the walls and daydream about freedom, plus the fact that you _stole my skin_ ; YEAH I'd say I'm in fucking prison."

 

She was gazing at him, frowning, as if she'd never seen a creature like him before. "You speak as if you think of yourself as human."

 

"I AM HUMAN!" he screamed at her. "Maybe I can turn into a fucking seal when I've _got my damn pelt on_ , but I'm still a FUCKING PERSON _just like you_!"

 

She seized him by the shoulder and forced him into a chair, then turned away. He immediately stood up again and watched her stalk over to the window and stare out of it for a minute. Then she turned and stalked back. He gulped and backed away, wondering if he was about to get spanked again. They seemed to be really into corporal punishment here.

 

"What's your name?" she demanded.

 

"J-Jason Peter Todd," he said, trying to hold his head high. "Wayne if you'd let me fucking finish getting adopted."

 

She muttered something to herself in her native language, then snapped, "Get out."

 

He stared at her as she raised her voice to call toward the sitting room, and the door opened. "So you're - gonna give me my pelt and send me home?" he tried, having to force his voice out past the sudden tightening in his chest.

 

"You're not going _fucking_ home," she said, the profanity very pointed. "Human or not, you vulgar child, you are Al Ghul property, and you _will_ stop causing trouble if you wish to avoid being flogged. I shall see about altering your accommodations so they are more to your liking."

 

Jason stared at her, then got distracted when the guards took hold of him. He tried to twist out of their hands, but they only tightened their grip. "Wait," he gasped when they started to drag him away, "Wait, what about my pelt?! What about my pelt, give it back! Please give it back!"

 

The guards paused when the Al Ghul woman snapped back, "Do you understand what it means to be property? You are - a dog. In your America, dogs are kept on leashes, purchased and sold at the will of their masters, dependent on their owners for everything from the food they eat to the beds they sleep on and the medical care they receive.

 

"You are a _dog_. Your masters have need of your pelt, therefore you are stripped of your pelt. Your masters have deigned to provide for your needs, therefore you will be grateful. I have taken _time_ to speak to you, to listen to your complaints and your vulgarity and disrespect, and still you shout at me and make demands. Understand, little seal, that I am second only to my father in this place, and you are a dog who continues breathing only because I will it. Learn your place, if only for your own sake."

 

Jason, shaking, didn't have the strength to speak, and the guards resumed dragging him away.

 

They dumped him back in his room. He cried on the bed for a long time, then threw some books at the walls as hard as he could, then lay down again and tried to sleep. He failed.

 

o.o.o

 

The next morning after breakfast, Jason was pressed up against the barred little window, staring longingly out at the horizon, when he heard the door being unlocked. He scrambled around and found a man entering, one he didn't recognize.

 

The man, who was dressed as well as the demure lady from the night before, peered around the room, then looked at Jason. He cleared his throat and held a pen ready to write in the notebook he was carrying. "Jason Peter Todd-Wayne?"

 

"What do you want?" Jason growled, feeling a little flutter at hearing Bruce's name attached to his as if it belonged to him.

 

"Is the bed comfortable?"

 

"It's not mine, so it sucks."

 

"Is the bed comfortable?" the man repeated blandly.

 

"No," Jason challenged, just to be difficult. He didn't feel any particular way about the bed. It was just a bed.

 

"Is it too firm or too soft?"

 

"It's not _my_ bed. It's your creepy kidnapper bed."

 

"I shall note down that the bed is adequate. Now, do you know any language other than English?"

 

 _"Yeah, bastard,"_ Jason said in Spanish. He wasn't fluent, but he'd picked up bits and pieces in the old apartments he'd used to live in with his parents.

 

"Would you like to have more books in Spanish?"

 

Jason blinked. It sounded like the guy was...offering books. "I-- What? I want-- books in English," he said, more uncertainly than he'd meant to.

 

"Specific titles, or genres?"

 

"Uhhh...both? I want-- uh, _Anne of Green Gables_ , the whole series; and, uh, anything by E.B. White; _The Borrowers_? Uh, anything by E. Nesbit, too; uhhh, Narnia and Tolkien, Count of Monte Cristo, Robin Hood-- OH, Jane Austen; like, complete works.... Shakespeare?" He hesitated, but the guy simply wrote busily, then looked up as if expecting more. Jason took a deep breath, then determinedly started listing every book he liked that he could think of, plus general genres in the hope he'd get something new. He kept waiting to get cut off, but the only time the guy interrupted was to ask for time to catch up with his writing. He just kept writing and writing and writing until Jason couldn't think of anymore books to ask for.

 

"Anything else?"

 

"......That's it for now...."

 

"Do you find this room too big, too small, or an adequate size?"

 

Jason swallowed. "I want to go home to my own bedroom at Bruce's house. Or his parents' house. I want to go back to Bruce, my _dad_."

 

"Do you find this room too big, too small, or an adequate size?"

 

"Fuck you!" Jason stormed around for a minute, digging his hands through his hair, then slowed. The man simply stood there, waiting patiently. "I'm fucking bored in here!" Jason burst out, tears pricking at his eyes.

 

"Do you desire the companionship of humans, seals, or both?"

 

"I want my dad." Jason almost mentioned his brother, but then decided that the less the Al Ghuls knew about his family, the better.

 

"Would you like us to bring your father here?"

 

For a moment, Jason's heart leaped in his chest, but then a horrible thought occurred to him. "Y-You mean like kidnapping him to lock him in here with me?!"

 

"Yes, it would be necessary to bring him into Al Ghul custody in order to serve as your companion."

 

" _Fuck_ you, I'm trying to get OUT of his hellhole, not get Bruce caught, too!"

 

The man drew in a measured breath, starting to look irritated for the first time, but then his face smoothed into his bland expression. "What leisure activities besides reading would you like to have access to?"

 

"Running the hell away and catching a plane back HOME!"

 

"So you would like to continue being locked in here with only books to keep you occupied?"

 

Jason stood there for a while, fists clenched, breathing hard. "I want...to take - walks. And...see a library. And...." Tears welled up in his eyes and he had to pause long enough to fight them down. "I want my pelt back so I can _swim_ , I want to go home to my dad...."

 

The man finished writing and then asked, "What about the food?"

 

Jason groaned in frustration, but then gave up and just started answering the questions about his preferences and background (what little he was willing to divulge of it, anyway) without fighting anymore.

 

The man left again once he'd finished, and Jason threw himself onto the bed to scream into his pillow for a while.

 

o.o.o

 

At one point, the guards came for him again. Jason's stomach twisted with dread as they went down the halls, but he was surprised when they eventually went outdoors rather than deeper into the compound.

 

There was a place that wasn't a garden, exactly, but it was very green with cultivated trees and bushes and a winding stone walkway. They traveled the full circuit of this path, returned indoors, then went back down some vaguely familiar corridors until Jason was escorted back into his cell and left alone.

 

He stared at the locked door, slowly realizing that being marched around with no explanation was their idea of taking him for a walk. Like he was a freaking dog.

 

"FUCK YOU!" he shouted at the door. He whirled around with the intention of throwing a tantrum, then paused in surprise.

 

The shelf had new books on it. Warily, he crept closer to inspect them and found some of the titles he'd requested. He stood there holding a yellowed copy of _The Borrowers_ for a while as he cried, then curled up in bed. He tried to read the book, but couldn't concentrate, and ended up just hugging it to himself as he thought of long ago days hiding in the public library, of reading by candlelight while his mother snored nearby, of listening to Bruce's voice as he read aloud to lull him to sleep....

 

TBC

 

A/N: In Middle Eastern culture, dogs are basically seen as vermin. (I love dogs, so it's not fun seeing some of my relatives reacting to them with revulsion....) Talia is aware of the different view of dogs where Jason's from and is trying to put it in terms he'd understand.


	27. Chapter 29 - Adorable Little Homewrecker

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 29 - Adorable Little Homewrecker (rough draft 2)**

 

Bruce had a new sea child in need of care and attention. He was determined not to love this one, he had learned the hard way that it would _hurt_ too damn much whenever he inevitably lost the boy. But he could feed and tend and teach and attempt to entertain Tim without loving him, so that was what he set about doing.

 

Once the child had two sets of measuring spoons to occupy him, Bruce dragged the kiddie pool away from the window and refilled it, set up the second one he had, then ordered more online. Tim's tentacles couldn't be neatly contained in a plastic sleeve the way Dick's tail had, so unless or until Bruce thought up a better solution, he'd just have to keep pools of saltwater available all around the ground floor of the house for Tim to dip into whenever he needed to rehydrate.

 

Next order of business was to call the fisherman in town Bruce had used to do a lot of business with to re-establish a standing order for fresh fish. When he hung up, he jumped a little at the feel of something slimy curling around his ankle, and he looked down to find the boy staring up at him.

 

"I'm ordering your food," Bruce explained, then remembered to sign it. Tim copied him curiously.

 

"I will give you food. You will eat the food." He spent a while explaining the grammar, though he couldn't tell whether or not Tim understood. "All right, let's try more vocabulary."

 

He assembled a pile of random objects and started holding them out to Tim one by one, saying their names as he did. Tim took each one, but once all ten of his limbs were full, he paused and looked at them all. Then he looked back at the squirt bottle Bruce was holding.

 

"Squirt bottle," Bruce said again, putting the bottle down so he could sign.

 

Tim had stopped repeating the signs two objects ago, since his hands were now occupied with a pair of tongs and a baseball cap. He studied all the objects he was holding, then finally released the cap and picked up the squirt bottle. He squeezed the handle like Bruce had earlier. Nothing came out, since the bottle was empty, but his tentacles all made a brief gesture like a girl twirling her skirt, and he started squeezing a little more rapidly.

 

"Hole punch," Bruce said, holding out the next item.

 

Once again, Tim took a while to decide which object to release in order to make room for the new one. When Bruce held up yet another new item, the mer's tentacles sort of scrunched and he suddenly surged forward. He knocked the desk calendar out of Bruce's hand and settled over the pile of objects like a dragon brooding over its hoard, teeth bared, tentacles flailing as they seized random items, convulsively dropped them, and grabbed others.

 

"All right...I see that you're angry. Or maybe frustrated. Are you frustrated?" Bruce asked, signing the words.

 

He was a little startled when small hands gripped his hard, forcing them still. Then Tim retreated, his tentacles knocking a whole cluster of items halfway across the room, and rapidly crawled to the nearest kiddie pool. He climbed inside, dragged the blanket Bruce had set next to it over himself, and went still.

 

"Finished," Bruce called. "You are _finished_ for now. That's okay."

 

Then he set about cleaning up.

 

o.o.o

 

Having a goal was...strange. Bruce had spent so long feeling heartsick and energyless that it was weird to have something genuinely important to work on, to _not_ feel like wanting to crawl into bed all the time. With Tim's care to occupy him, now he only felt the urge to nap two or three times a day instead of constantly.

 

The next time he woke up, he looked around for the mer but didn't see him immediately. "Tim," he called. He wandered into the kitchen and then stopped dead, staring.

 

Tim sat in an office chair in the entry to the pantry, holding a ripped cardboard box in his hands. The area immediately around him was flooded with dry pasta in the shapes of cartoon characters (Dick had picked that out months ago, Bruce suddenly remembered. They'd both forgotten about it). One entire tentacle, curved up into the air, was coated with the stuff, and Tim was watching in fascination as pasta bits slowly slid down the moist limb.

 

"What are you doing?" Bruce said blankly.

 

Tim looked at him. Then he gave the box to a tentacle so he could sign, _"Go away."_

 

"Tim, you're making a mess. When the actual toys I've ordered arrive, you're going to start playing with those and not with food or household items." He started to make his way over to the pantry. Tim reached out with most of his tentacles, grasping cabinet handles and sticking suckers to flat surfaces. He pulled himself along on the rolling chair, moving around the kitchen away from Bruce.

 

Bruce wearily rubbed at his temples. "Why is this my life...?"

 

Tim watched as Bruce cleaned up his latest mess, then tried to retreat again when Bruce came for him. "No." Bruce scooped the boy off the rolling chair, ignoring the limbs wrapping around him. He carried Tim over to the nearest kiddie pool and dunked him until all the remaining pasta pieces had floated free. Then he methodically unwound two tentacles from his arm, contorting to stick his calf in the way when two more tentacles reached to recapture it. Now with his legs bound, he grabbed a waiting aquarium net and started scooping pasta from the water, dumping the pieces into a bag in his other hand, which he kept having to quickly hold shut against inquisitive tentacle tips.

 

Once he'd finally collected the last of the pasta, he started dragging himself back to the kitchen, trying to elevate his legs so he wouldn't hurt the tentacles still clutching them. Then Tim apparently tired of holding him captive and the tentacles abruptly released, allowing Bruce to get to his feet and dispose of the soggy pasta.

 

Bruce took a moment to collect himself, then went back to the living room. "Tim?" The child had vanished again, and Bruce resisted the impulse to bang his head against the wall.

 

He followed the damp trail to a closet, where Tim was nesting under a pile of shoes. When Bruce opened the door, the little boy held up the tablet in his hands and insistently poked at the home button. The screen remained black and unresponsive.

 

"It probably needs to be recharged," Bruce explained. He sighed. "The tablet's waterproof, but I can't let you handle it when it's plugged into an electrical socket. You're wet, so it's dangerous."

 

He went and climbed over the baby gate in order to plug in the tablet upstairs. When he came back, it was to the sight of Tim holding Bruce's current phone, tapping insistently at the screen. Unlike outdated devices like the tablet, Bruce's phone thankfully had a passcode that the child hadn't figured out yet. "No." Bruce swiped the device out of his hands. "You're welcome to almost everything in this house, but not my phone."

 

Tim made four grabby hands, two with his actual hands and two with tentacles.

 

"No. Let me get you something else." As Bruce was sorting through a basket of 'safe for the octopus child to play with' items, he felt an intrusion into his back pocket. "For God's sake...."

 

He wasn't quite quick enough to catch his phone, and Tim rapidly backed away as soon as he had it. Bruce made several grabs for the device, but it kept getting passed to a new limb every time. "Oh, for _crying_ out loud!" He _was not used_ to dealing with a single person who had so many limbs.

 

Changing tack, Bruce hunted down both sets of measuring spoons and grabbed some more stuff out of the toy basket. He crouched back down by Tim, who narrowed his eyes and shifted to shield the phone with his small body. "You like these?" Bruce asked, offering one of the spoon sets.

 

Tim looked at him warily, but took it.

 

"How about these?"

 

Tim took the second as well.

 

"This is pretty cool, too, right?" Bruce continued, holding out the Rubik's Cube.

 

Once all ten of the mer's limbs were filled, Bruce was finally successful in plucking the phone out of his hand. "I'll take that," he said, holding it out of reach. A tentacle dropped the coffee mug it was holding and reached for the phone, but this time Bruce was ready for it, blocking its way with a slinky. The tentacle automatically closed on the toy. Another tentacle was already shooting toward the phone, but as it was still gripping the baseball it had been given earlier, it only bumped harmlessly against Bruce's hand.

 

Tim went completely still for a moment. Then, slowly, one of his tentacles released the glasses case it had been holding and made another try for the phone. Bruce pushed a cardboard tube at it, and it grasped the item compulsively. Tim actually glared at his own tentacle.

 

"This phone is mine. Don't touch. You can have almost anything else." Bruce went to put the phone up on a high shelf.

 

Tim spent the next hour sulking, making more messes and then watching Bruce clean them up in what seemed like a vengefully satisfied sort of way. Bruce finally brought the tablet back downstairs and sat down. Tim rested his whole body on the ground, watching Bruce warily.

 

"It's charged up, so now you can play with it." Bruce scrolled consideringly through the apps, then tapped the camera icon and snapped a photo. He turned the screen to show Tim.

 

The mer jerked upright and stared, going completely still for a moment. Then he dropped almost everything he was holding and surged forward, taking the tablet into his arms. He hunched over it intently.

 

"That's you, see? I took a photograph of you. Photo." He tapped the mer's shoulder to get his attention long enough for him to see the ASL sign. "Photo."

 

 _"...Photo,"_ Tim signed cautiously, then immediately looked back at the screen.

 

Bruce reached through the tangle of limbs and tapped. "If you want to take some photos yourself, here's how to do it." With Tim still clinging tightly to the tablet, he levered it upright enough to take another picture.

 

Tim sat up straight, staring again. He looked at the living room, then back at the screen. A tentacle hovered uncertainly.

 

"Not with your tentacle. Use your hand." Bruce gently pushed the tentacle out of the way and pointed. After a moment, Tim used his finger to prod at the spot Bruce indicated. Bruce guided him through the steps until he was able to take a picture himself.

 

Tim stared, his tentacles doing the skirt-twirl thing again. Then he held up the tablet and tapped. When he lowered it again, Bruce saw a blurry picture of himself.

 

"You have to hold the tablet as still as you can so that the picture will come out clear."

 

Once Tim had gotten the hang of it, he took photo after photo. After two hours, he finally went still, then tried to drag the tablet into a pool with him. Bruce had to take it away; this time, Tim accidentally let go of it while trying to avoid grabbing onto the distraction-toys Bruce kept handing him. The mer hissed and retreated into the water, hiding under the blanket.

 

"It may be waterproof, but it's not meant to stay submerged for long periods of time, kiddo." Bruce sighed and flopped onto the couch. Although he hadn't been doing anything particularly strenuous, depression was still a thing, and he was exhausted. Since it probably wasn't the best idea to leave this kid unsupervised, he ought to grab a nap whenever Tim slept. He closed his eyes and fell asleep almost immediately.

 

o.o.o

 

Tim wasn't in the pool when Bruce woke up. The man groaned and then set about searching the house, growing more and more concerned when he failed to locate the mer. Any tracks had dried by now.

 

Bruce considered a moment, then fetched his thermal imaging goggles and made another circuit of the ground floor.

 

There was something in the closet, even though Bruce had already checked it. The shape was a roundish lump and faintly-colored compared to a human heat signature, but odds were it was Tim. Bruce took off the goggles and opened the closet.

 

Tim was still nowhere in sight, but Bruce frowned at the suitcase that was lying in about the same spot the heat signature had been. He crouched down and lifted the lid.

 

Tim was curled up inside with a soggy blanket and the tablet, looking quite comfortable. He bared his teeth at Bruce and tugged the suitcase closed again.

 

Bruce stared for a moment, not sure how to react. Then his phone dinged with an alert from his security system and he confirmed that it was what he assumed it was.

 

"Mail's here." Bruce zipped the suitcase three-quarters of the way shut and then slowly raised it, feeling Tim shift inside. Once the suitcase was upright and the mer had stilled, Bruce extended the handle and then fetched the wagon, awkwardly rolling both vehicles behind him. A couple of curious tentacles snaked out of the gap in the suitcase and felt around, but Tim stayed put.

 

The regular supply delivery was waiting at the end of the pier. It was bigger than usual, since this time it included all the purchases Bruce had made the day before. Bruce loaded everything into the wagon and then headed back.

 

Tim's tentacles poked through the packages, but since they were all boring box shapes, he didn't resist when Bruce started unloading them in the kitchen. When Bruce opened the container of live fish, Tim shoved the opening in the suitcase wider and started to emerge. "These are for--"

 

Tentacles were already reaching to snag the creatures. Tim popped them into his mouth and watched Bruce as he chewed.

 

"I'm not going to take them away, but you're going to need to pace yourself. These are supposed to last at least a few days." Bruce put the lid back on and transferred the remaining fish to the 'holding pen' aquarium. "Look, Tim, there's more."

 

Tim was captivated by the fidget toys. Bruce gave him three to start with, saving the rest for later, and Tim sat there on the floor, riveted by the squishy ball in his hands and the click-clacking toys in his tentacles.

 

"Hopefully that'll keep you occupied so you'll stop wrecking the house, hm?"

 

Tim made no response, not even bothering to look up. Bruce smiled a little and then started putting together some breakfast.

 

TBC


	28. Chapter 30 - Settle In

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 30 - Settle In (rough draft 2)**

The next time he was taken for a walk, Jason defiantly stopped in the middle of the path. The guards waited, patiently at first, then one of them frowned and prodded at him.

 

"Maybe I don't want to walk that way," Jason said loudly. "Maybe I want to walk _this_ way instead." He headed in the opposite direction. The guards looked disgruntled, but followed him.

 

Jason walked all over the compound and found some courtyards and gardens to explore. A lot of doors were locked, and the guards forced him away from some others, but for the most part, he was allowed to wander as he pleased. It both amused and annoyed him when some of the servants they passed looked alarmed to see him and skittered out of the way like they thought he might bite.

 

Jason paused on a walkway above a large, open-air training ground. There was a group of about twenty people practicing some sort of martial arts, most of them teenagers but a few of them actual kids. Strangely, the smallest two seemed to be the most skilled, and were sparring viciously at the moment. Jason winced at the spray of blood when the girl got knocked to the ground, but she scrambled to recover immediately. Two moves later, a woman's voice rang out, and both kids halted and stood at attention like little soldiers.

 

Jason jolted and backed away from the railing when he realized that the woman was the lady who'd bought him. She gave some rapid instructions he would have been too far away to hear even if she'd been speaking English, then she gestured sharply. The kids bowed to her and then faced each other again, taking up ready stances.

 

Then she looked up at Jason. He felt his flesh creep at her attention even though she was so far away. After a moment, the kids looked at her, then up at him. He ducked away and hurried down the walkway. When he glanced back, all three had gone back to what they were doing. He still shuddered and escaped into the nearest corridor, trying to find the way back to his room.

 

o.o.o

 

Dinner that night was different than usual. Jason frowned at the chunk of meat wrapped in bread and drizzled with some sort of spicy, meaty sauce. He was nearly halfway through it when he suddenly realized it was meant to be their idea of a chili dog. "Wow. Just... _wow_." It didn't taste anything like a chili dog, but it...wasn't bad, so he finished it off, sulking as he tried to process his mixed feelings.

 

o.o.o

 

Two days after the preferences and background interview, a parade of servants came in with crates of books. Jason stared as they filled his shelf to the brim and stacked the remainder on the floor. A couple of the servants gave him contemptuous looks as they left; the rest practically fled as if they thought they were feeding a monster.

 

When he was alone again, Jason went to look. Every single book he'd asked for was there in shiny new editions, even the ones he'd already been given used copies of. For the first time since coming here - since being _kidnapped_ \- he felt...not horrible. Kind of excited. He ran his fingertips greedily over the spines and pulled a book from the shelf to look at.

 

"You're still fucking traffickers and you _suck_!" he yelled at the door. Then he pulled more books off the shelf and took them to his bed. The next time he blinked and looked up, a little drunk on the story he'd been sucked into, it was long past nightfall.

 

o.o.o

 

The walks and the food and the books made life...better. That scared him in a different way, though, because if his captivity became more tolerable, what if he started seeing it as his new normal? What if he started being _grateful_ to his OWNERS, like all the other brainwashed people around here?

 

He was stress-reading when he started to turn a page and was startled at the smear of red that appeared. He stared at his fingers. He'd anxiously bitten and scratched at them so much that they were...bleeding.

 

He wondered how his captors would react to that. The thought of them wrapping his hands so thickly that he could do nothing for himself made him sit up and squeeze his hands between his thighs as if he could somehow crush them out of existence. He was already so helpless, they already were so contemptuous of him, he couldn't give them another reason to restrict him, he _couldn't_....

 

TBC


	29. Chapter 31 - A Prince Asks Questions

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 31 - A Prince Asks Questions (rough draft 2)**

Jason found the library. It was a huge room with lots of light and lots of shelves, filled with books and even some scrolls.

 

He wanted to look around the place more closely, but the people shelving items and working at desks were all as uptight as if he was a pest that had gotten into their food. They kept him away from the shelves, actually hissing and flapping their hands to shoo him away, and he exclaimed in exasperation, "I _like_ books, you dumbasses, I'm not gonna make a bonfire out of 'em or anything! Fuck's sake...."

 

"Are you a mutant?"

 

Jason startled around at the sound of the unexpected voice - high and young, with that same slight British-ey accent that the Al Ghul lady had. "What?" He stared at the boy who'd come up and addressed him. The kid only looked about eight years old, but he was standing straight with his arms crossed and an arrogant look on his face as if he thought he was a prince.

 

"A mutant," the child repeated contemptuously. "The product of genetic mutation." Then, without waiting for Jason to respond, he rolled his eyes and added, "Because you are clearly an abnormal specimen. What use does a creature like you have for books?"

 

"What use does a creature like _you_ have for books?" Jason snapped.

 

The boy looked haughty, and Jason suddenly recognized him as one of the kids who'd been violently sparring. "The written word is an efficient way to transfer knowledge--"

 

"I was being sarcastic, moron! I don't know how they brainwash you all in this hellhole, but selkies aren't animals just because we can turn into seals sometimes. I'm _not an animal_ , get it through your thick fucking skull."

 

The boy stared at him. "Grandfather says--"

 

"Is your grandfather a selkie?" Jason challenged.

 

"Of course not! He is--"

 

"Well, then maybe you should trust the ACTUAL SELKIE to know more about selkies than some old dude who likes to talk out of his ass."

 

The child looked utterly shocked, maybe from hearing someone trash-talking his dear old gramps. (Jason wondered briefly if he ought to feel bad, but then decided that anyone who was in this place of their own free will deserved to get trash-talked.) One of the guards asked something, and the boy's voice sounded faint when he answered.

 

Jason wished he knew what they were saying, because the guard seized his shoulder, yanked him around, and slapped him hard across the face. Jason, dazed by the sudden violence, might not have understood the outraged scolding even if it was in English. Then the guards were marching him forcefully away, ignoring the wavering question of the child behind them.

 

Jason was shoved all the way back to his room, where the guard who'd hit him knocked an armful of books off his shelf and then spat on the floor. The door was shut and he was left alone, shaking.

 

o.o.o

 

It was the middle of the night and Jason was crying because he was trying to make a decision. No - he'd already made the decision, he was just trying to accept it.

 

He...he had to escape. He had to just...leave.

 

Even if it meant leaving his pelt behind.

 

He sobbed as he bit at his hands, trying fiercely to pound it into his heart. He would never swim again. He would be giving up the ocean, a piece of his heart, a piece of his identity. He'd be as good as naked for the rest of his life, raw and vulnerable from the loss.

 

But it would be _fucking worth it_ , because at least he'd be free again. He'd be _home_ , with his family, and they'd love him even if he wasn't whole anymore. He'd be safe. He'd be crippled, but at least he'd be _free_.

 

It hurt, though; it hurt so much, so much, the loss seemed to cut through him and he couldn't stop crying and bleeding....

 

o.o.o

 

Of course, even after making the decision, he had to make plans and preparations. He needed to do more exploring, see if there was any way to get out of the compound. He'd have to start hoarding or stealing food, figure out how to get hold of some non-perishables. Water. Something to use as a weapon. Maybe money, or at least a way to contact Bruce. Bruce could come get him, Jason just had to somehow reach him and tell him where he was....

 

o.o.o

 

The problem was that the only times he wasn't being closely watched were when he was locked in his room. It made it difficult to explore. Guards were always following him wherever he went, servants often side-eyed him as they passed, and sometimes Jason caught glimpses of the Al Ghul lady watching him from a distance.

 

Jason still hadn't come up with a solution to the problem by the time he met the haughty boy again.

 

He was sitting by a pool, watching fish swimming lazily in the depths, when he heard the approach of small footsteps. "You. The Wayne seal."

 

Jason glared. "My name is Jason."

 

The boy narrowed his eyes.

 

"You know, it's _customary_ for people to introduce themselves when they meet."

 

The boy lifted his head and announced grandly, "My name is Damian al Ghul."

 

Jason blinked. "Like the bi-- the lady who thinks she owns me?"

 

"My mother _does_ own you."

 

"No one owns me," Jason snapped automatically, even as he digested the revelation that this boy, Damian, was the son of the woman who'd bought him. That woman was second-in-command here, which made Damian something like royalty in this weird cult. No wonder he acted like an entitled brat.

 

Damian rolled his eyes and sat down next to him. "She does. So if you're not an animal, does that mean you think you're human?"

 

Jason wanted to answer 'yes,' but...human beings couldn't transform into seals. "I'm a person," he said roughly. "Just like Superman's still a person even though he's an alien, and the Flash is a person even though he can run a million times faster than normal humans, and Wonder Woman, and Aquaman.... You can't look them in the face and say they're not people just because they can do things normal humans can't."

 

Damian glared down into the water for a while. "Mother said that a human took you in and treated you like his son."

 

"Yeah. He was trying to adopt me when those trafficking bastards kidnapped me and fucking sold me to your mom."

 

Damian frowned at him. He looked like he was about to say something, but then he closed his mouth without speaking and just studied Jason for a while.

 

"What?" Jason said defensively.

 

"You really do look like you could pass as human...."

 

Jason rolled his eyes. "I have a human birth certificate. I went to school. I got put in foster 'care' for a while. I'm human, okay? Maybe I don't meet your stupid definition for what a human being is, but I'm a human. And what you're all doing to me is _wrong_."

 

"Is that why you're always causing trouble? Because you think you shouldn't be here?"

 

"Duh."

 

"Then how come you're not trying to escape instead?"

 

Jason's heart jumped a little in his chest. "You gonna help me with that?" he managed, deliberately not looking at the guards even though he was pretty sure none of them understood English.

 

Damian tsked. "Of course not. I simply meant if _I_ was...taken into captivity, I would not be wasting time causing petty inconveniences. I would have escaped within twenty-four hours, so I assumed that you either have subhuman intelligence or are simply incompetent."

 

"I'm _fourteen_!" Jason burst out. "You're, what, eight? We're KIDS, we're supposed to be going to school and hanging out with friends and playing fucking softball, not learning how to escape captivity in twenty-four hours or less!"

 

"Hmph. I'm an Al Ghul. I am held to high standards," Damian said, looking almost proud of the fact.

 

"Crazy standards," Jason said in disgust. "You know this place is basically a cult, right?"

 

Damian's face changed color as he glared angrily. "My grandfather is going to save the world. That's why you're _here_ \- your species is endangered and he's studying you all to try to _save_ you."

 

Jason stared. "Ripping off my fucking pelt is not _saving me_. It's _torture_."

 

"It's harmless! You continue to function normally, you feel no pain--"

 

"THERE'S OTHER KINDS OF PAIN!" Jason screamed, then scrambled away as the guards surged toward him. Damian said something sharp and gestured. The guards subsided, but still glowered at Jason. "You don't even know," Jason panted, feeling a little hysterical. " _You_ don't know what it's like to have a pelt or to have it taken, so don't tell me how to fucking feel!"

 

His heart was beating so hard it ached, and he lifted a hand to his chest. "I want...to go back to my room now...I want--" Tears suddenly stung his eyes when he realized he'd called the cell his room. "I want my _dad_...I want to go home...!"

 

Damian might have watched him get taken away by the guards, but Jason didn't know for sure because by then he was crying and not really capable of noticing much.

 

TBC


	30. Chapter 32 - Quietly

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 32 - Quietly (rough draft 2)**

 

Tim _really_ liked the suitcase. He figured out how to zip it closed from the inside, and even how to relocate it by pulling it along as he sat in the office chair. Bruce lined the inside with plastic, and Tim spent long hours in his shaded hiding place, curled up with wet blankets and toys.

 

Bruce tried to match his sleeping schedule to Tim's in hopes of giving the mer less chance to get into trouble while Bruce was busy being unconscious. It meant both of them slept at odd hours of the day and night. Tim grew calmer as he got more familiar with the house and the objects it contained - he always had at least a few tentacles occupied with fidget toys or other interesting objects, but the disaster messes started to die down. Bruce attempted to create a schedule and was diligent about teaching the mer both English and ASL.

 

About a week after Tim's arrival, Clark dropped in for a visit. He let himself in and found his friend working on the computer. "Hey there, Bruce."

 

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a skittish animal."

 

Clark smiled. When he spoke again, there was less calculated gentleness in his tone. "Just doing the weekly check-in, and--"

 

He paused. He looked around, then frowned at the closet. He began to approach, but Bruce hurried to get ahead of him. "Wait," Bruce said. He opened the closet door and knelt by the suitcase. "Tim, I'm coming in," he warned as if dealing with a normal child's bedroom. He unzipped about half the suitcase and peered in. "Hey, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. His name is Clark, and he will not hurt you."

 

After a lot of coaxing, tentacles started to snake their way out of the suitcase, and then the entire creature emerged. Bruce swaddled the child in a sodden blanket and then stood up with him in his arms. "This is Tim."

 

"Ohhhh," Clark said softly, reaching out. A tentacle wrapped around his wrist and held it firmly, so he stopped reaching. He grinned at Bruce. "You found another one?"

 

"He's not mine," Bruce snapped. "I just can't get rid of him and he nearly wound up as seagull food when I tried to send him home."

 

There was such a stony lack of humor in his tone and body language that Clark went back to figurative tiptoeing. It was the first time in a long time he had seen his friend up and about in a normal way rather than curled up in bed or holing up like a caveman, but Bruce was still far from his usual self. Clark supposed he had the child to thank that Bruce had made any progress at all.

 

"It's nice to meet you, Tim," Clark said warmly.

 

"Arthur didn't say anything about him?"

 

Clark hesitated. "We...haven't really gotten together since...." He couldn't even explain why, since Bruce wasn't a real member of the League and Jason had had nothing to do with superheroes at all, but it had just...never felt right.

 

Bruce stared. "You haven't had _any_ group meetings in all this time?"

 

Clark stared back. He hadn't expected Bruce to care. "Is that a problem?"

 

"You are the _Justice League_ ," Bruce growled. "People are _depending_ on you. You need to be coordinating, keeping an eye on hot spots and practicing disaster response plans." He paused. "Do you even _have_ disaster response plans?"

 

Clark couldn't think what to reply. It had never occurred to him to plan responses to potential disasters. He mostly just showed up when hostile aliens attacked and started punching, or zoomed around rescuing people during earthquakes and such.

 

Bruce groaned. "Who even let you all team up? You're terrible at this."

 

"I think you should join the League officially," Clark decided.

 

Bruce shook his head in disgust. "Right. Just give me a minute to come up with the stupidest superhero name I can think of and pick out the most obnoxiously-colored cape I can find."

 

"I'm serious. Even without a pseudonym or a costume, I think you could make some significant contributions to the team."

 

Bruce narrowed his eyes.

 

"I mean, having you on board would help with the criticism we've been getting about not having any normal humans, but I think _you_ , specifically, would be a valuable member regardless of that."

 

Tim, having had ample time to study the newcomer, chose that moment to creep away from the shelter of Bruce's body, though he still had the blanket draped over him. Keeping two tentacles wrapped firmly around Bruce and another two around Clark's wrists, the mer softly patted his hand on the S symbol while other limbs investigated Clark's hair and belt compartments.

 

"Keep your cell phone away from him," Bruce said, grabbing it hurriedly. "Probably shouldn't let him have your keys, either. He won't want to give them up."

 

"Curious little thing, isn't he," Clark chuckled, taking the opportunity to snap a photo.

 

"If by that you mean a klepto hoarder who can't keep himself out of every nook and cranny he comes across, then yes."

 

Clark dipped his head to peer at the child's face under the blanket and informed him, "You're adorable."

 

_"You, what??"_

 

"This is Clark," Bruce introduced. "His name is 'Clark,' but we can pick something to call him with your fingers." He combined the letter C and the sign for 'glasses.' "How about that? 'Clark.' This man is 'Clark.' "

 

_"...Clark. Good morning."_

 

"Good morning, buddy!" Clark replied, signing as he spoke.

 

"This is 'hi,' " Bruce taught the mer. "You use it to greet people. 'Hi, Clark.' "

 

 _"Hi, Clark,"_ Tim repeated, looking like he was nearing the end of his patience.

 

"What's your favorite toy, Tim?" Clark asked, continuing to sign.

 

Bruce set down Tim by the toy basket. The boy studied Clark's feet as four of his tentacles plunged into the basket and rummaged around, eventually withdrawing with loot.

 

"He definitely likes those measuring spoons," Bruce remarked.

 

 _"Measuring spoons good,"_ Tim signed absently. _"I want feet, please."_

 

"Take your socks off, he wants to look at your feet."

 

Tim wasn't as fascinated by toes as Dick had been, but he still studied them carefully, particularly after he asked for Bruce's feet to compare. He pressed a pen to Clark's foot.

 

"He wants you to hold it with your toes," Bruce explained.

 

Clark complied, grinning in amusement. Tim watched intently for a while, then started poking at the pen. He jiggled it until Clark lost his grip and the pen tumbled down.

 

 _"Ugly, weak,"_ Tim commented. _"Why foot? Tentacle better."_ He easily scooped up the pen with one of his own lower limbs.

 

"Yeah, but we can walk with them," Bruce said dryly. "I challenge you to do _that_ with your tentacles."

 

Tim, still holding the pen, crawled over to his office chair and climbed into it, then pulled himself in the direction of the kitchen.

 

"He seems pretty at home here," Clark remarked. "How long have you had him?"

 

"About a week."

 

"Do you need any help?"

 

"No," Bruce snapped.

 

"All right, Bruce," Clark said, raising his hands. He smiled a little. "You look good, though. I'm glad you're doing a bit better."

 

"I'm fine."

 

After Clark left, Bruce fetched the underwater camera he'd gotten for Tim and then collected the boy. "Come on, let's go swimming. You need some time in the actual ocean."

 

Bruce took them a decent distance offshore. Tim peered over the edge of the boat and made no move to enter the water, but he didn't resist when Bruce picked him up and dropped him overboard. Bruce then settled down to wait.

 

After an hour or two, the boat started to waver and then tip. Bruce opened his eyes and watched lazily as tentacles and hands gripped, slowly heaving up the rest of the mer's body. Tim finally got himself over the edge and flopped into the bottom of the boat, where he dropped the bag of trash he'd collected and made a beeline for his blanket. Once sufficiently hidden from the sun, he pushed his camera toward Bruce. _"Bad or good?"_ he asked, his questioning look stiff and exaggerated. He finally understood that facial expressions were an important part of ASL, but it didn't come naturally to him at all.

 

"Good," Bruce said before even looking. It was important to praise children and build their self-esteem. "Your pictures are very good."

 

_"Look!"_

 

"Yes, yes, I'm looking." Bruce started viewing them, taking his time. The boat wasn't far enough away from shore for there to be much of interest, but Tim had still managed to get some genuinely appealing photos of sunlight sifting through water, and clear images of passing fish and some sea plants. He'd also taken pictures of some of the garbage before he'd collected it.

 

"Humans suck," Bruce remarked, even as he marveled at how one of Tim's photos made an ethereally-drifting plastic bag look pretty. "Maybe you shouldn't be romanticizing the pollution." _'Nice job building up the child's self-esteem, Wayne.'_ "It's a good photo, though."

 

Tim had been watching him closely, keeping unusually still. He made a series of exhalations that sounded faintly like Bruce's last sentence, then signed, _"What?"_

 

"This is 'pollution.' " Bruce pointed at the garbage, then the water. "It means trash where it's not supposed to be, like in the ocean. ...I don't know what the ASL is for 'romanticize.' "

 

Tim cocked his head.

 

"You hungry?"

 

_"Fish. Good fish."_

 

"All right. Let's go home and eat."

 

TBC

 

A/N: I've read about sign-names, but I still don't really understand how they are constructed. X'''D (I was able to get around it in TBWS because the kids making up the sign-names were all hearing and not part of the Deaf community, but Bruce, although not a native signer, is more knowledgeable about it, so when he's the one coming up with the name...I don't know....) I mean, like, do you ever use a word or letter as a name, or is it always modified in some way? How many different ways are there to modify it? How frequently is it based on physical appearance as opposed to non-physical characteristics? Stuff like that, I have no idea.

 

Chaseha_Wing and LilliputianDuckling both suggested that Bruce ought to get Tim an underwater camera. :)


	31. Chapter 33 - These Clothes Didn't Come From a Department Store

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 33 - These Clothes Didn't Come From a Department Store (rough draft 2)**

 

It occurred to Jason that he'd been spending quite a lot of time asleep. He was waking up later than usual in the mornings, sometimes got fatigued before the sun even set, and had started taking at least two, sometimes even four naps a day.

 

He was losing his appetite, too.... At first he ate whether he felt like it or not, conditioned by a lifetime of food insecurity to consume whatever nutrients he was offered. But eventually...eventually he found himself swallowing a slowly-chewed bite of food and then just...staring at the rest. Feeling like taking even one more bite would be a monumental task. _'I'll save the rest for later,'_ he finally thought, nudging the bowl aside. Then he took a nap.

 

He never did get around to finishing the meal.

 

o.o.o

 

He'd stopped freaking out whenever his guards took him out of his room, too, to the point where he no longer even cared where they went. He let them march him around the stone path on his Required Daily Walk. He let them escort him to the room with the pool where he had to force himself to wash just so they wouldn't try to do it for him again. He kept his head down and didn't fight.

 

He was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with an open book resting neglected on his chest, when the door opened. He set the book aside but otherwise lay still, waiting for them to grasp him and pull him to his feet. He trudged along with them and didn't notice that they were going somewhere unusual until the door they'd stopped in front of opened and that kid, Damian al Ghul, scowled out at them. "You are dismissed," the child ordered, then grabbed Jason's arm and dragged him inside.

 

The door shut firmly in the guards' faces, and Jason blinked. A slight tremor went through his body when he looked around and realized that he was neither locked in his cell nor under close guard. He should...probably use this chance to try to escape. He should. If he could just...get his brain to work properly.

 

It was hard to think because Damian was pulling him again, talking as he went. "...but if you really are as intelligent as you claim, then you'll behave yourself so as not to lose the privilege...."

 

Jason blinked and squinted around at the suite. It was large and airy, filled with natural light. There was an open door to the left that showed a glimpse of tile beyond, a few closed doors, and another open door that seemed to lead to a bedroom. The walls were covered with tapestries, paintings, and other artwork, weapons were displayed all over the place, three shelves were filled with books, and there was a nook containing a violin, music stand, and neatly-stored sheet music.

 

The most attention-grabbing part of the suite was the glass wall and the courtyard beyond, which was ringed with vegetation and had a small pool on one side, fed by a stream.

 

"Here." Jason was startled at the flash of color and motion in his peripheral vision, and barely managed to catch the bundle of clothes Damian dumped in his arms. "Do you like any of these?"

 

Jason blinked at the younger boy. "What?"

 

"Go through them," Damian said impatiently. "Here." He grabbed Jason's elbow and towed him over to a divan. "Tell me which you like best, and I might permit you to borrow it."

 

" _Huh_?!" Jason dropped the clothes on the divan and stared at them. Then his gaze caught on fur, and his eyes widened. He lifted the seal pelt out of the pile with slightly shaking hands. "Is...is this...?" It definitely wasn't his, but the sight of it made him swallow in dread. "This isn't-- _someone's pelt_ , is it...?!"

 

Damian looked nonplussed for a second. Then he crossed his little arms and stuck his button nose up in the air. "Is that a problem?" he demanded.

 

"Uh, _yeah_ it's a problem if you rip off people's skins and parade around in them like they're coats you bought in a fucking department store!"

 

"Hmph. Al Ghuls do not buy anything from _department stores_ ," Damian said. "That pelt you hold was created here, as a result of our studies. Try it on."

 

Jason looked at the...pelt in his hands. It didn't _feel_ like a pelt even though it looked like one in its natural state. Gingerly, he brought it around his own shoulders - and was shocked when he suddenly morphed downward.

 

He stared at himself, shaking. He was-- he was a _seal_. But it was all fucking wrong, he didn't look _anything_ like himself, the fur was the wrong color-- He was breathing hard as he clawed the thing off again and hurled it away.

 

He sat there for a minute, trying to get his breath back. Then he looked over to speak to Damian, only to find the boy rather hastily hanging a white robe and a purple coat back in the wardrobe. Jason's senses tingled. "What are you doing?" he asked sharply.

 

"Hmph. These are not suitable for the likes of you," Damian said. He was still using that snooty tone of voice, but he wasn't meeting Jason's eyes.

 

Jason scrambled to his feet and strode across the room.

 

"Get away from me!" Damian exclaimed shrilly, then took a firmer stance. "No," he boomed, as if scolding a dog. He gestured sharply. "NO. Do not come."

 

Jason ignored him. He reached out, and at the first touch of fabric between his fingers, he felt sick. These _were_ real selkie pelts, he could feel it. "Wh-- Whose pelts are these?!"

 

Damian's cheeks were flushed and his arms were crossed so hard he looked like he was hugging himself, though he kept his head held high. "What makes you think these are...?"

 

He seemed to struggle to find a good way to end the sentence, and Jason cut in before he could. "You have to give them back," he said, with more ice in his voice than he'd thought he was capable of. "Whoever these belong to, give them _back_."

 

"They have been in our possession for over ten years, I'm certain the seals they once belonged to are dead."

 

" _Still_ belong to, and don't just assume! Give them back!"

 

"I can't just _get rid_ of them, Grandfather will--!"

 

"Fuck your grandfather! Are you his sock puppet or something?!"

 

"Do not speak of the Demon's Head like that! Do you _want_ to be flogged?! That's what will happen if anyone overhears your insolence!"

 

The boys faced each other down, breathing hard, Jason with his hands clenched because he _was_ afraid of getting beaten but didn't want to admit it.

 

Damian finally tossed his head and cleared his throat. "I will look into the matter," he said stiffly. "In the meantime.... The rest are all synthetic. Do you have objections to _those_ , too?"

 

"Yeah, they're not mine," Jason grumbled.

 

Damian frowned. "I presumed you would welcome the chance to swim in your natural flesh again."

 

Jason gave him an annoyed look, but didn't say what he was about to because it occurred to him that...he _would_ like to swim again. Even if it was...while wrapped in synthetic crap, at least he...would get to feel the ocean again.... "Swim in what, that little puddle out there?" he said roughly, nodding toward the courtyard.

 

Damian sighed and grabbed an armful of pelts. "Follow me. Bring the rest."

 

They made their way to a much larger outdoor pool that was filled with seawater and surrounded by elegant stone and lush vegetation. Damian laid down his pile of pelts and sorted through them. "Do you want to be a seal, or do you want to try something different?" he asked.

 

Jason stared at him. "What?"

 

"This one, for example." Damian draped himself in a green robe and a minute later - he had _a freaking mer tail_. Complete with pointed ears and slimy skin just like Dick.

 

"What?!" Jason shrieked, scrambling backward in shock. "What...?!"

 

Damian smirked at him and then dropped into the pool. Jason crept to the edge and stared as the kid swam around, looking for all the world like an honest-to-God mer, then returned to the edge and peered out of the water at Jason. "What are you waiting for?"

 

"What...?!"

 

After Jason had finally gotten over his shock, he dubiously considered the pile of garments. It creeped him out too much to take a selkie pelt that wasn't his, so he tried one that Damian said was another mer tail.

 

It felt...really weird to have both a tail and proper arms at the same time. He sat there flopping his tail around for ages, amazed and weirded out by how flexible it was. It was one thing to watch Dick moving the entire lower half of his body with a full string of joints; it was another to feel it himself, how he could curl his tail up and around far enough to touch his own face with it. (He was pretty uncoordinated and needed to steady himself with his hands, but the capability was there.)

 

Damian was clearly bored and made a lot of complaining noises, but Jason ignored him until the discomfort of drying out started to get to him. The sun felt even more searing than it did on human flesh, and the sensation of slowly losing more and more moisture was painful and kept sending danger signals to his brain. He rolled over and let himself fall into the pool.

 

It was _glorious_ , at least for the first second where all he felt was the full embrace of seawater. Then he tried to take off and zip around in a few circles like he would have as a seal, and nearly crashed into the wall.

 

It took him a while to adjust, and Damian's know-it-all instructions and advice weren't very helpful. Jason's mer tail and front limbs were all _far_ longer than he was used to when he was swimming, and the little adjustments he had to make with his arms and hands were different than the ones he would have made with flippers. While his tail was super-flexible, his upper body was far less so, especially compared to what he was used to in seal form. Not having a snout threw him off, too, and he had to use a lot of concentration for swimming mostly with just his tail. As a mer, his upper body wasn't good for much during swimming other than steering.

 

His eyes were better, though - all the color, depth, and light he could perceive as a human looked the same underwater, except prettier. His seal eyes were mostly designed for finding food and spotting danger, but mer eyes were apparently interested in non-essentials as well.

 

He was still trying to get the hang of swimming as a mer when he sensed something weird. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but something about the large passing shadow and brief vibration of water put him on high alert, especially when Damian rushed for the surface.

 

Jason followed more cautiously, and went stiff with fear when he saw the giant monster approaching. It had blood-red fur and huge bat wings, burning yellow eyes and massive fangs. Jason was trying to scream, the air feeling frozen in his lungs, when Damian discarded his tail and went racing _toward_ the monster. "Goliath!"

 

The beast loomed over Damian, lowered its head, and...snuffled into the boy's hair.

 

"I assume you've been out fishing, so I expect no begging for scraps tonight," the little prince said, looking extremely pleased despite his scolding tone. He was patting the monster's fur like it was a freaking dog.

 

"That's a...that's...!" Jason wheezed, clinging to the edge of the pool.

 

Damian turned toward him, looking smug. "This is Goliath, my hound."

 

"THAT IS NOT A FUCKING DOG!"

 

"It's figurative," Damian said, now looking annoyed. "He is a dragon-bat, but he belongs to me and does my bidding, therefore he serves as my hound."

 

The giant red thing turned toward Jason and regarded him, then padded closer.

 

Jason tried to back away in alarm, flailing in the water. "G-Get away from me!"

 

The thing ignored him, leaning close. Jason sank deeper into the pool, then was horrified when a giant clawed paw dipped into the water and started groping around, apparently looking for him.

 

It took a while, but Damian finally took pity on Jason and called off his freaking monster. The beast stretched out on the warm stone and huffed as Damian sat on its head and petted it.

 

After watching for a while, Jason's panic started to die down. The thing...really was rather docile, despite its size and looks, and it hadn't hurt him. He still nervously kept his distance and resumed his efforts to get the hang of swimming as a mer.

 

At one point, he looked over at the extremely unexpected sound of Damian...laughing. Apparently the thing, Goliath, had just licked him. As Damian smiled and scrunched his hands through thick red fur, Jason frowned and peered closer. With that soft, affectionate look on his face, Damian looked...kind of familiar. ....He looked weirdly like Bruce, even though Jason would have never expected this tiny kid to remind him of his giant rich white guy dad.

 

Thinking about Bruce made Jason's heart start to clench, so he stopped.

 

o.o.o

 

After a while, he had his fill of feeling like a clumsy oaf in what should have been his natural element, so he hauled himself out of the pool, figured out how to peel off the tail, then sat there for a while, feeling morose.

 

"You look displeased," Damian observed.

 

"It really sucks that I suck at swimming now," Jason mumbled.

 

"You'll be more comfortable in a selkie pelt."

 

"No, I really won't. Unless it's mine," Jason added pointedly. "Go get my pelt, brat."

 

"Your pelt is in use. I can't simply take it out of my grandfather's hands."

 

Jason shuddered at the idea of people _using his pelt_. Wearing it. The thought made him want to vomit.

 

Damian sighed. "There are plenty of others to try. That pink one will turn you into an octopus mer. It's more challenging to master but very useful once you have."

 

"And before I master it? The point is _not_ to feel like a baby who doesn't know how limbs work!"

 

"Then swim with your human legs if you're going to be difficult!"

 

Jason snorted. "Like that's any better."

 

There was a long pause. "Why?" Damian finally asked, sounding confused.

 

"Why what?"

 

"Your human legs are your natural ones, so your complaint does not apply."

 

"Huh?"

 

Now both of them were staring at each other in confusion. Damian finally said, "The whole point is to swim in your natural state. So, swim. Nothing's stopping you from swimming as a human."

 

Jason's heart thudded as he finally got what Damian was saying. He didn't answer, instead hugging his legs and resting his chin on his knees.

 

Damian tilted his head. "You _do_ know how to swim as a human, right?"

 

Jason felt his face flushing. "What's the point of swimming like a chimp when you've already got perfectly good flippers?"

 

"You don't have flippers anymore," Damian pointed out, as if Jason was an idiot.

 

"I KNOW. Who's fault is that?"

 

"Not mine," Damian said sourly. "Why did no one ever teach you how to swim?"

 

Probably because he'd never admitted to a human that he couldn't swim when not in seal form. "None of your business, brat."

 

"You should learn. It's a basic skill."

 

"What, you gonna teach me?" Jason scoffed, his face still feeling hot.

 

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose I could."

 

Jason stared.

 

Damian straightened up and pointed. "Get into the water."

 

"No!"

 

Damian was a brat, and Jason did end up in the water, where, as far as he was concerned, he nearly drowned. Damian was a lousy teacher, using a lot of yelling and smug superiority and an attempt at hitting that nearly sent Jason storming off back to his cell. But then, when they were taking a break so they wouldn't kill each other, Jason hesitated where he was clinging to the side of the pool. He watched Damian swimming laps and finally dipped his head into the water to watch. He couldn't see well enough with his human eyes, so he reached for a mer tail, dragged it closer, and struggled to put it on one-handed.

 

Now that he could see better, he took note of the way Damian was moving his body. Once he'd memorized the motions as best he could, he moved down to shallower water, took off the tail again, and started trying the swimming motions for himself.

 

Once Damian noticed he'd gotten back to work, the child came over and started criticizing him again until Jason shouted a tirade at him. Damian retreated and watched sullenly for a while as Jason practiced on his own. It was embarrassing, trying to do something in front of someone who was proficient when he felt like such a clumsy failure, but whatever; everyone in this place seemed to delight in stripping him of his pride.

 

It was encouraging when he finally figured out how to move in a way that kept his head above water. It felt totally wrong, he knew he wasn't moving _anything_ like how Damian had, but his clumsy flailing was still somehow keeping him afloat. He struggled from the side of the pool over to the stair railing without sinking, and felt tentatively accomplished as he sat on the steps and panted.

 

Damian moved a little closer and looked uncertain as he said quietly, "Put the tail back on and watch me."

 

Jason was wary, but the command hadn't been overly rude, so he followed it. Damian, silent now, demonstrated for him, and Jason was surprised to find how many different ways there apparently were to swim as a human. "Can you...do that first one again?" he finally asked.

 

Damian complied. Jason watched closely, and then started trying to imitate it himself. Damian watched, and Jason snapped "Shut up" every time the kid opened his mouth to criticize. In frustration, Damian at one point moved his arm, arching it high, and after a pause, Jason lengthened his own reach as he swam.

 

The silent demonstrations worked a lot better than the yelling and insults, and the rest of the afternoon passed quickly as Damian taught Jason how to swim. When Jason was finally escorted back to his cell, he devoured his entire meal and then fell asleep soon after, out of genuine exhaustion, for once, rather than despair.

 

TBC


	32. Chapter 34 - Test Run

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 34 - Test Run (rough draft 2)**

Bruce began teaching the mer how to read and write, as well as some basic math. Whenever they got tired of that, he looked up science experiments to do with children, which Tim seemed fascinated by.

 

After three weeks, Bruce began to feel restless for the first time since-- ...for the first time in a while. He started itching to get off the island for a bit, then finally decided to see how the octopus child would handle venturing further into the human world. "Tim, we're going to go somewhere today."

 

_"Go on boat, swim, take photos."_

 

"No-- Well, maybe we can do that later. But we're going to go into town today. 'Town.' I'm going to check my mail and buy some supplies."

 

_"Mail boat."_

 

"No, they won't come today. I called them yesterday and said I want to come pick it up myself."

 

Tim went still and narrowed his eyes at Bruce suspiciously.

 

"You will have to hide. There will be a lot of humans, and it's not good for them to see you. You will stay in the suitcase." Bruce paused. "Or you can stay here. Not in the house, because I know you'll wreck it if I leave you alone, but just offshore. Which one do you want, Tim? Do you want to stay here in the ocean alone for a couple of hours, or do you want to come with me where there are lots of scary humans and stay hidden in the suitcase?"

 

_"You do not die."_

 

"...How does that have _anything_ to do with my question."

 

_"I hide in suitcase, you do not die."_

 

Bruce didn't see how those statements had anything to do with each other, but whatever; he could ask in a few months when the mer was more fluent. "All right. Let's get ready."

 

It had to be the suitcase, since the only other option was hauling Tim around in a backpack, and Bruce felt tired just thinking about that. Neither a wheelchair nor a wagon would sufficiently conceal Tim's lower half without inhumanely tying him up. The suitcase would work on a practical level, but it would look odd and possibly attract the wrong kind of attention unless Bruce had an alternate explanation.

 

"This is a cannula," Bruce explained. "Listen, this is important. When we go out to see humans and you hide in the suitcase, I will wear the cannula in my nose. It will be part of our disguise, so humans won't bother you. Don't play with the cannula, and don't pull on it. I have to keep you safe, and if you pull the cannula off me, then we won't be able to go to town and get the mail, or more fish for you to eat."

 

Tim was, predictably, playing with the cannula, but he was also watching Bruce's signing hands thoughtfully. _"I hide in suitcase."_

 

"Yes. Stay in the suitcase so humans won't see you."

 

 _"C-a-n--"_ he paused.

 

_"C-a-n-n-u-l-a."_

 

Tim repeated the letters several times until he'd memorized the spelling. _"I safe?"_

 

"It's hard to explain, you don't know enough words yet. Just please trust me, Tim. Don't pull on the cannula. Don't play with it. I will give you other toys. Okay?"

 

_"...Okay."_

 

Bruce took a test run around the island. When he was satisfied that Tim was keeping hidden and leaving the plastic cord alone, he slipped the boy a piece of fish and then headed for the boat.

 

It felt strange stepping onto shore for the first time in what felt like years. Everything was so familiar, yet Bruce felt like a different person. He just stood there for a while, adjusting, then took a deep breath and began moving forward. Tim was tucked away in the suitcase with wet blankets to keep him hydrated and toys to keep him occupied, the very top unzipped to let in air.

 

The cannula cord snaked up from inside. It was still weird to supposedly keep an oxygen tank in a suitcase, and Bruce would have to completely B.S. his way through a cover story when (not if; it was a small town) people asked, but at least 'Did you hear that Bruce developed a serious medical condition at such a young age? Poor deluded thing thinks hiding the oxygen tank in a suitcase is actually discrete' was much preferable to 'I wonder what super-mysterious valuable item Bruce is hauling around so protectively.'

 

It was a much longer trip without a bike, but it wasn't like Bruce had anything else to do, and he could use the exercise since he'd been slacking off lately. He went to the post office first and was detained for a while by the curious postmaster, who chatted with him about everything from his cannula cover story to how his parents were doing to what Dick was up to (allegedly spending a few weeks at camp).

 

Bruce, depressed introvert that he was, wanted to call it quits the minute he escaped, but they really did need more food and some odds and ends. He sighed and found a building to hide behind, then crouched to check on Tim. "Are you okay?" he murmured, opening the zipper a little wider so he could see the boy's reply.

 

_"Humans."_

 

"You did very well. You were very quiet and stayed hidden, so no one knew you were there. Good job."

 

_"Good job."_

 

"Do you need to go home early, or should we stop to get more food first?" Bruce asked, half-hoping Tim would give him an excuse to not be responsible.

 

_"Food."_

 

"You sure? Are you scared, or not scared?"

 

_"Scared. Food. You do not die."_

 

"...I don't know how to interpret that. Do you want to stay longer with the scary humans and get more food, or do you want to go home where it's safe and quiet and we can take a nap?"

 

_"I want food. You do not nap, we play checkers."_

 

"..........All right, fine." Bruce got some more fish for the mer but didn't bother getting any food for himself - he could survive for at least a few days on the dregs of supplies left at the back of his cabinets. In the boat, he pulled out the cannula and gave an all-clear signal to Tim, who slipped into the water and swam the rest of the way home. Once in the house, Bruce set up the checkerboard and deliberately lost a game to Tim so he could check that box off the list and then throw himself onto the couch for a much-needed nap.

 

He woke up to find Tim squirming into his shirt. It brought up painfully bittersweet memories of other sea children cuddling up to him, and he couldn't stand it. "No," he said sharply. He wrestled the mer back out of his shirt and practically dumped him in a kiddie pool. "Personal space. I sleep there, you sleep here."

 

_"You sleep, I sleep."_

 

"You're wet. I can't sleep if you're getting water all over me and the couch."

 

Tim stared at him flatly.

 

"Take a nap."

 

_"No."_

 

"Fine, don't take a nap. Just don't bother me or I'll go upstairs." He dragged over the entire toy basket, then went to curl up on the couch again.

 

He couldn't get them out of his head, a certain fish mer affectionately cuddling with him even in captivity and a soft little seal relaxing in his arms, trusting him not to be cruel like so many others of his kind.

 

Bruce bit down hard on his own forearm to stop himself from wailing. He lay rigid on the couch for a long time, eyes squeezed shut, listening to the soft clinking sounds of Tim playing alone.

 

TBC


	33. Chapter 35 - "For the Greater Good"

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 35 - "For the Greater Good" (rough draft 2)**

 

Jason woke up feeling half-depressed as usual, but also with a little flame of hope that he hadn't had in a long time. He wondered if he would get to see Damian again today.

 

The guards eventually came, but they didn't take him to Damian, or even for a walk or a bath. They went down an elevator and emerged in a quiet, blank corridor lined with closed doors and occasional glass walls. There were people working beyond the walls, but Jason couldn't tell what any of them were doing.

 

They went through a door with keycard security and through some more rooms, then finally came out into a room with a large pool. A cluster of people with tablets were talking quietly together, one of them with an American accent; the Al Ghul woman was working on a laptop at a table by the wall, not bothering to look up at Jason's entrance; and a man who kind of looked like he'd walked off the set of a cheesy old-school vampire movie was brooding over the seal pelt resting on a table.

 

Jason felt his whole body tingle. His eyes were fixed on the pelt, which was the same color as his fur when he was in seal form. He'd never seen his pelt as anything other than a red hoodie except for super-hazy memories from when he was very small. But this.... It seemed right. He could feel himself shaking. "Is that my pelt?" he asked, startled by how thin and pleading his voice sounded.

 

Vampire Man looked up. "Commence," he ordered.

 

The guards pushed Jason toward the cluster of people, and one of them picked up the pelt. He grabbed for it and put it on, sobbing in wild relief. He transformed in mid-sob and his weeping turned into a series of hoarse howls.

 

"Good," he heard dimly from overhead. "Now, Variation 2."

 

Hands reached for him, grasping at his fur, and he SCREAMED and thrashed and bit. But they were bigger and stronger than him, and there were so many more of them, and being so scared as his pelt was removed against his will _hurt, it fucking hurt...!_

 

"GIVE IT BACK!" he howled. "GIVE IT BACK! GIVE IT--!"

 

A hand struck him hard across the face. "Silence."

 

He panted in shock, shaking. Then he got his wits back and struggled as hard as he could against the hands restraining him, still crying with fear and pain and rage as he kept his eyes on his pelt.

 

The man gave a cold order. One of the guards raised a sheathed sword like a club and Jason was terrified, but then the woman looked up and spoke. "Father - the creature is quite attached to his pelt, it might be more efficient to use it as a bargaining tool than to simply beat him." The vampire raised an eyebrow at her, then looked back at Jason.

 

"Just...give me...my pelt...please...please give it back...!" He hated himself for begging, but he'd...he'd fucking lick the guy's boots if they just _gave back his pelt_. And didn't take it away again.

 

"If I permit you to take it," Vampire said, "will you cooperate?"

 

Jason looked up at him, shuddering. "If...if you let me keep it. You have to let me keep it, it's _mine_."

 

Vampire nodded at the tablet people, and the one holding the pelt offered it back. Jason snatched it and clutched it close, not sure how to wear it without transforming since it didn't look like a hoodie anymore.

 

"Do you know how to shift the appearance of your pelt?" Vampire asked.

 

Jason stared at him. He didn't even know that was a thing. "No."

 

"You must learn. Concentrate on the desired form and channel your shifting power into the garment itself."

 

As if Jason had any idea how to do that. Vampire Man was an even worse teacher than Damian, and the Demon's Daughter or whatever her name was finally came over and gave more helpful instructions.

 

Despite everything, Jason was shocked and a little awed when the pelt in his hands finally turned into his familiar hoodie. He scrambled to yank it over his head and then practically hugged himself in relief. It felt _so good_ to finally be whole again.

 

"Now repeat the exercise, but pick a different form." Jason wanted to protest, but he looked at the guard, noticed he was still holding his sword ready, swallowed, and did his best.

 

They worked until Jason was exhausted. He miserably tried to follow all the instructions, but at the end of the session they still reached to grab his hoodie. "Let go! You said I'd get to keep it if I-- LET GO!!"

 

"I promised you nothing," Vampire Asshole said mildly.

 

Jason shrieked in betrayed outrage, then in desperation as he fought to keep hold of his pelt, but once again, he couldn't stop them from ripping it off his body. He wailed as they dragged him away, pouring out his rage and despair at the top of his voice, and felt so sick when they threw him back in his cell that he nearly threw up. He grabbed some books off the shelf and flung them across the room, then huddled on the floor, clutching his arms around himself and rocking as he wept.

 

o.o.o

 

There were more sessions, nearly every day. Sometimes they involved swimming or shifting, or Jason's tormentors would take his blood or his pee, or they'd put him through different scans or measurements. Sometimes other selkies were brought in.

 

If Jason had been stronger, he would have refused to cooperate, but the fear of being beaten and the knowledge that he couldn't win made any resistance seem pointless. And even without that, he...he wanted his pelt. Even though they wouldn't let him keep it, he was desperate to feel its soft weight around his body again, to have that raw wound in his heart filled, at least for a few hours....

 

He'd thought that things couldn't get any worse, that he couldn't sink any lower in his captivity, but he'd been wrong.

 

o.o.o

 

"What's wrong with you?"

 

"Go the fuck away."

 

There was a long silence as Jason huddled on his bed, facing the wall, and tried to will Damian to leave.

 

"...I came to see if you wanted to swim," Damian finally said, "but I suppose you are too selfish and ungrateful to even--"

 

Jason rolled over and launched himself at the child, who rocked back with wide eyes and struck out. Jason dropped to the floor, wheezing, and looked up at Damian. His eyes were blurred with tears of pain, betrayal, and frustration. Everyone in this compound wanted to hurt him; _everyone_.

 

Damian looked weirdly horrified. "I-- I didn't--! Why didn't you counter, you fool?!"

 

"Fuck you," Jason whispered brokenly. He didn't think he could uncurl enough to get back onto the bed, so he shuffled underneath it like an animal instead.

 

There was another long pause. Damian finally left, and the click of the lock echoed in Jason's ears for a long time.

 

o.o.o

 

He was screaming and sobbing and desperately clinging to his pelt as they tried to pull it out of his hands, as usual. Somewhere in the background, he could hear Vampire complaining. Words like 'untenable' and 'useless' and 'terminate' were used. Jason didn't care.

 

TBC


	34. Chapter 36 - Consultant

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 36 - Consultant (rough draft 2)**

Although the thought of officially joining the Justice League was ludicrous when he could barely hold it together in his personal life, Bruce agreed to visit the Hall of Justice in a consultation capacity. He explained to Tim and packed for the trip, then waited, playing a game of checkers to pass the time (and distract Tim from causing any last-minute messes).

 

A quiet knock on the back door startled him more than it should have. Bruce found Wonder Woman standing there, smiling at the sight of the little mer, nodding a greeting to Bruce when he came to let her in.

 

"I know it's probably wrong to enter by the rear door, but there was more room for the jet on the beach."

 

Bruce frowned out at the clearly empty beach. He didn't see anything except a few odd depressions in the sand. "What jet?"

 

"It's invisible."

 

"...." Whatever. Bruce turned to Tim, who'd disappeared into the suitcase. "Tim, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

 

Diana smiled and sat regally on the floor, facing away from the suitcase. "We're very glad you agreed to come, Bruce."

 

"I had to. Your collective incompetence scares me."

 

"You would make a welcome addition to the team."

 

"I can't even muster up the motivation to shave most days." Bruce pointed at his Depression Beard. "99% of my energy is used up taking care of Tim."

 

"I suspect much of that energy comes from having Tim in the first place."

 

Bruce fell silent, considering this in surprise.

 

"Oh," Diana said, "by the way, Arthur wanted me to ask you to bring some of those sleeves, the ones Dick wears to protect his tail."

 

The reminder of his other lost son was painful, and Bruce gritted his teeth against memories as he fetched a box of sleeves and tucked it into his luggage. When he came back, he found that a tentacle had ventured out of the suitcase and was poking at the coils of the Lasso of Truth. Two more soon joined it, then the rest of Tim slowly emerged.

 

Diana glanced half over her shoulder and smiled. "Hello, little one."

 

Tim raised his hands. The Lasso lit up, and then he was signing a lot. He finally stopped, eyes wide in surprise.

 

"What did he say?" Diana asked.

 

"I have no idea. That wasn't ASL, and I...haven't had time to learn much of his own language yet." Which was odd, Bruce suddenly realized. He was usually eager to learn new languages. "Tim, that is the Lasso of Truth. It compels you to tell the truth. 'Compel' means that it forces you to do it whether you want to or not."

 

Tim stared at the Lasso and let go of it, his tentacles coiling in close like they'd been burned. After a moment, he signed, _"Scary."_

 

"Tim," Diana asked, shifting to face him and lifting her hand, "may I touch you?"

 

He stared at her.

 

"You can say no," Bruce said.

 

Tim didn't say anything, merely watched Diana's hand as it slowly came closer. He sank down when the hand touched him, then closed his eyes and leaned into it slightly as she stroked his hair. "He's precious, Bruce."

 

Bruce swallowed and couldn't bring himself to answer.

 

o.o.o

 

Bruce spent the majority of the flight battling to keep Tim's curious tentacles from getting too much in Diana's way as she piloted. Then they came to rest on the roof of a building and Bruce followed Diana across the landing pad, wheeling Tim along behind him. The Amazon was easily able to carry the child-filled suitcase down the stairs, but Bruce still lectured, "You need to get an elevator installed. Just because you're all superheroes doesn't mean you can ignore accessibility needs. For all you know, you might someday recruit a member who can't use stairs."

 

"I'll let our liaison know," Diana said seriously.

 

They emerged into a wide, marble hall, and then Diana was showing him around the main lobby, which was currently closed to the public and contained a sort of miniature museum. Large statues of the League members were arrayed behind the Information Desk, and smaller exhibits were widely scattered around the rest of the space.

 

Bruce looked around, feeling unenthusiastic. It was objectively interesting to see what taxpayer money was doing to support the country's-slash-planet's superhuman protectors, but he couldn't muster up any genuine feeling about it.

 

"This area is for the public," Diana explained. "We ourselves spend most of our time here behind the scenes."

 

She gave him a keycard and showed him the training room, where the Flash and Martian Manhunter were performing some sort of exercise, but both men stopped as soon as Bruce came in.

 

Flash was instantly in front of them. "Superman said you have a new baby," he said eagerly, looking at the suitcase.

 

Bruce sighed. "His name is Tim. He's shy. And don't exaggerate; I'm just hosting him for a while until he gets bored and returns to his normal life."

 

"Can't I get a little peek?" Barry begged.

 

"He's _shy_."

 

"All right, all right, I get it," Barry said, raising his hands defensively.

 

There was an equipment room, a kitchen where Clark was making sandwiches, a lounge where Hal was watching TV, a huge pool, a gym, and others. The tour ended with the control room, where Arthur was sitting in front of a large bank of screens. "We took your suggestion," the Atlantean said. "At least one person is always here to monitor the news and equipment so we can respond immediately to any threats or disasters."

 

"Good," Bruce said dully.

 

There was an awkward pause.

 

"Is there...anything else you'd like to see while you're here?" Clark finally ventured.

 

Bruce sighed and resisted the impulse to answer 'no.' "I might...take a look at your setup," he mustered, gesturing at the control panel. Arthur ceded the seat to him, and Bruce sat down in it. He tugged Tim's suitcase closer, remembered to give Arthur the box of plastic sleeves, then looked at the control panel. He felt tired.

 

"Should we...leave you to it, then?" Barry said timidly.

 

"This is your headquarters. Do what you want."

 

After a moment, most of the League wandered off. J'onn showed Bruce a few things, and he methodically went through the various options, sensors, feeds, and settings, occasionally asking questions or making suggestions.

 

After a while, he felt a gentle pressure against his leg: Tim pushing inquiringly from inside the suitcase. Bruce widened the opening and reached to pull the mer out. Tim, bundled up in his blankets, was wet and messy and didn't smell super-great, but Bruce still held the child close and hid his face against soft, damp hair. Tim's fingers poked gently at his head and tentacles slowly slid around him. Fidget toys clinked and clicked.

 

_"P'sss."_

 

"I'm fine," Bruce started to mumble, but choked on the last syllable. The feel of a damp child in his arms was not doing good things to his heart, even as he squeezed a little tighter.

 

He managed to hold it together for several long minutes. Then a sob finally broke free. He tried hard to suppress it during his next inhale, but finally lost the battle. His weeping was quiet but ugly, and he tried to press a hand against his nose to stop snot from getting all over Tim even as he continued to cling to the child tightly. The sound of fidget toys at last went silent, and he was pretty sure he could feel all eight tentacles grasping him now. He tried to count them without looking in an effort to distract himself from the completely random surge of grief that had come out of nowhere to overwhelm him.

 

A hand gently came to rest against his back. "Bruce--"

 

"Don't - _touch_ \- me," Bruce tried to snarl, but it came out as a ragged gasp. He stumbled as he surged to his feet, tangled up in tentacles, and shot out a hand to catch himself on the back of the chair. Clark was the one hovering close; Diana and Barry were a little farther away, watching with horrible sympathetic expressions. Bruce didn't want their pity.

 

"I don't know," he choked out, "why you think--" He had to pause to suck in a breath. "--I'd be worth _anything_ here, I can't even--! I can't-- I can't--!" He groped for the handle of the suitcase and staggered a few steps, needing to get _out_ , to get away from people and just bury himself alone in his house with Tim and the ghosts of his lost sons. "I'm leaving. I'm l-- leaving, get the-- I'm--"

 

"This way, Bruce," Diana said quietly, in front of him now. He followed her, dragging the suitcase with one hand and clinging to Tim with his other arm because the little mer felt like the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces right now.

 

"Bruce," Clark called at the threshold of the roof access staircase, "take all the time you need, and know that it's a standing invitation. Whenever you're ready, in two months or five years, _whenever_ , you're welcome to join us."

 

Bruce wanted to spit vitriol back at him, but he also didn't want to turn his head or use his voice, and his hands were too occupied to gesture, so he stayed silent, fixing his eyes on Diana's boots as she climbed the stairs.

 

He didn't remember much of the journey home. The next time he was clearly aware of anything, it was of being helped into a chair in his living room, Tim still in his arms and unnaturally still, staring at him. "What are you doing?" he grumbled.

 

"I'm going to make you some tea," Diana said, heading toward the kitchen.

 

He closed his eyes, sudden calm sweeping through him as he realized he needed to be smarter in order to get rid of her. He looked up again, and Tim narrowed his eyes at him. "I'm fine," Bruce told him sweetly.

 

He started a card game with Tim, waiting. Diana eventually came in with three mugs, the steaming ones for the adults and the cold one with minnows in it for Tim.

 

"Thank you," Bruce murmured, trying to strike the right balance between sullen and grateful.

 

"You're welcome."

 

They finished their tea quietly. Bruce tried to resume the card game, but Tim ignored it in favor of watching him, sucking up minnows and working at several fidgets again.

 

"Feeling better?" Diana asked once the mugs were empty.

 

"Yes," Bruce murmured, still carefully controlling his voice. He was pleased to find that it stayed even and didn't reflect any of the squirming, raging, screaming feeling in his chest. "Thank you. I'm kind of tired, though...."

 

She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Rest, my friend. And don't hesitate to call us, any of us, if you need anything."

 

"Of course," Bruce lied smoothly.

 

She smiled and kissed his forehead, then bid goodbye to Tim before finally, FINALLY returning to her invisible freaking jet and flying away.

 

Bruce shoved his mug aside and stood up. He looked at Tim and gestured invitingly toward the rest of the house. "All yours for the wrecking, kiddo." Then he flopped down on the couch and pulled the throw blanket over his head, escaping into a nap that lasted over four hours.

 

When he finally woke up, it was to find himself piled under damp mounds of ripped book pages. Tim had apparently taken him up on his offer, even leaving the book covers lined up neatly by the couch, open to show off the devastated inner spines. Weirdly, the passive-aggressive display inspired a surge of genuine affection in Bruce that nearly made him laugh. He looked around for the kid, found him asleep in the closet, gently tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, then went to clean up.

 

TBC

 

A/N: Credit for the Depression Beard goes to breezy-cheezy and Chaseha_Wing!

 

More Cyborg stuff I had to cut:

 

Tim, bundled up in his blankets, was wet and messy and didn't smell super-great, but Bruce still held the child close and hid his face against soft, damp hair. Tim's fingers poked gently at his head and tentacles slowly slid around him. Fidget toys clinked and clicked.

 

"Hey, kiddo," Victor said softly.

 

Bruce heard rather than saw suckers curiously feeling along metal with soft wet pops. With his face still in Tim's hair, he belatedly remembered to ask Victor, "Are you waterproof?"

 

"As long as all my ports are sealed, yeah."


	35. Chapter 37 - Go, and Take Him With You

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 37 - Go, and Take Him With You (rough draft 2)**

 

Jason's eyes shot open. It was the middle of the night and at first, he had no idea what had woken him. Then there was a rumbling sound, and he thought at first that it was thunder but the whole building shook. A weird, wavering light started up outside, and when he raised his head to look, he realized that something was on fire.

 

He hesitated, trying to decide whether to feel scared or not. Then he sighed and laid his head back down, the fear draining out of him and leaving numbness behind.

 

o.o.o

 

He didn't know how long it had been, but the sky was lighter as dawn approached, and now that there were shouts and the sounds - some of them nearby - of gunshots and clanging blades in addition to even more explosions, Jason was scared again. Trapped like he was, he couldn't actually do anything except wait by the shelf to start throwing books if anyone came in to kill him.

 

The person who finally did burst into his room batted aside the first two books and then gave Jason an annoyed look. He stared at the Daughter, tense, wondering what she was going to do.

 

"Come with me," she snapped. She held a naked, stained sword and was splattered with fresh blood, crimson dripping down her cheek and boobs and hair. Her outfit was black, so she probably had even more blood on her that he couldn't see.

 

"Are y-you gonna kill me?"

 

"No. _Come_ , or I'll leave you to the mercy of my enemies."

 

Jason scrambled after her. She marched down corridors without glancing at any of the carnage littering them, and Jason tried his best to suppress his nausea and not look at the bleeding, broken bodies, either. (Not all of them were dead. He clamped his hands over his ears to block out their cries.)

 

He recognized Damian's suite when she flung the door open. The place was a mess, and Goliath was in the courtyard with an agitated-looking Damian already sitting on his shoulders. The Daughter marched over to them, hissed at Jason when he scrambled to catch up, then practically launched him up to join the smaller boy. She said something to Damian in another language and Damian replied, then she whirled around and disappeared through the doorway.

 

Damian called to Goliath and the dragon-bat leaped into the air, huge wings climbing higher and higher.

 

"What's happening?" Jason demanded.

 

"There was a coup," Damian said tightly. "Mother...deemed me unworthy to stand in defense of the Demon's Head, so I have been sent away to complete my training elsewhere."

 

Jason watched the burning compound recede behind them, and the relief in his chest was nearly swallowed up by an ache of grief. "My pelt was back there...."

 

"Oh - no, I have it."

 

"What?!"

 

"Mother gave it to me. It's in my pack."

 

Jason seized the pack, which was conveniently right in front of him, and started frantically digging through it.

 

"Stop, you fool, you'll knock us out of the air! Or lose our supplies!"

 

Jason didn't notice if he lost any supplies or not; all his attention was caught up in HIS FREAKING PELT. Once he'd turned it into a hoodie and had it on, he sat there hugging it around himself and cried.

 

When the tears finally slowed, he looked around and found them flying over a desert.

 

"Are you finished?" Damian asked coldly.

 

"If you try to take my pelt away, I will _kill_ you."

 

"Pah. You can try," Damian scoffed.

 

"Where are we going?"

 

There was a pause. "To America," Damian finally said in a low voice. "To...see my father. He has...connections to the Justice League, and I am to ask them for sanctuary if necessary."

 

"What-- The _Justice League_? Who the hell is your father?" He _knew_ the Justice League, it didn't seem to fit that any of them would have ties to a weird Demon's Head cult.

 

Damian looked over his shoulder at him. "My father is Bruce Wayne."

 

Jason blinked. He sat there for a while. "Uh, no," he finally said. "That's _my_ dad."

 

"Mother wouldn't lie to me," Damian said impatiently. "And if I'd known before today that we share a father, I would have considerably stepped up your training. Your incompetence is disgraceful."

 

"We do not--! Bruce doesn't HAVE any kids except me and Dick!"

 

"I shall prove it," Damian shot back. "As soon as we get to civilization."

 

"Or we can just ask Bruce," Jason snapped. He meant it mockingly, but once the words were out, the air suddenly left his lungs when he realized that - this was it. He was escaping, he had his pelt, he was _going to see Bruce_. He was going home.

 

He started crying again, and for the first time in forever, they were tears of joy.

 

TBC

 

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**OUTTAKE -** **Original epilogue** **(rough draft 2)**

 

A/N: At first, Damian wasn't going to have any screentime in this fic at all; then he was only going to be in the epilogue; then I decided to write an Al Ghul arc where he would obviously make an appearance; then once I'd done that, it didn't make sense for Jason to leave him behind, and including Damian in the rest of the fic wouldn't mess up the plot, so I decided to send Dami along with Jay. That means I had to throw out my original idea for the epilogue, but here it is as an outtake for anyone who's curious.

 

o.o.o

****

The heir of Ra's al Ghul was reading when his mother came striding through the door of his suite. "Damian."

 

 _"Mother."_ He stood up at once and laid the book aside, glad that he'd had the foresight to wrap it in colored paper. It was ostensibly to protect it in the absence of a dust jacket, but in reality, it concealed the cover, which displayed a photo of two mer and a boy with webbed toes playing on a beach under the title _Gifts From the Sea_. Damian knew he wasn't yet allowed to read this particular book or even, indeed, to know that the author was anyone noteworthy.

 

"Pack your things. You're leaving, and I don't know when you'll be able to return."

 

She spoke in English with an American accent, and his heart beat faster. It was a clue about his destination, and if he was headed to America, that might mean.... "Am I-- Am I to meet my father?" he asked, also in English.

 

"You will be staying with him." She was at his wardrobe, sorting through garments - the special ones.

 

Damian was already gathering his belongings, including his father's memoir, trying to prioritize irreplaceable items of personal value. He already had an emergency bag of supplies, weapons, and spare clothes ready to go in every room of his suite; he'd grab one of those last. "Which oceanic robes am I bringing?" he asked.

 

She turned and looked him in the eye. "All of them."

 

He should be alarmed, but instead, he could feel his face lighting up. He really was setting out to make his way in the world, deemed mature enough to fend for himself. "Yes, Mother."

 

"There's a boat waiting. You have ten minutes."

 

She left as suddenly as she had arrived, taking a bag of robes with her. Damian spent a bit of his allotted time packing the rest with care. Slinging the strap over his shoulder, he grabbed his main bag and one of the emergency bags.

 

Then he left his rooms for the last time, already planning which robe to choose for presenting himself to his father. He had to both appeal to the man's weakness yet project himself as strong. He was an Al Ghul, of the best lineage on land and created to be a superior child of the sea as well, so his father's choice was almost guaranteed...but it didn't hurt to be prepared, just in case.


	36. Chapter 38 - "I'm Done Hiding"

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Chapter 38 - "I'm Done Hiding" (rough draft 2)**

It was a sunny afternoon, gulls calling in the distance and the TV playing quietly in the background. Bruce was feeling decent for once, sitting on the floor with Tim as they each worked on Lego constructions.

 

"Looks like you're making good progress, kiddo." Bruce had no idea what Tim was building - the boy hadn't shown any interest in the instruction booklets Bruce showed him - but the creation was getting bigger and more elaborate. Bruce himself had started out trying to build a car, but was now just aimlessly sticking bricks together, soothed by the clicking of interlocking pieces.

 

_"...where it appears the gang has successfully been subdued...."_

 

Bruce glanced idly at the TV, which had been covering the same unfolding story for hours. The new little junior superhero team in San Francisco had been duking it out with a group of criminals just as improbably colorful as they were, and apparently they'd finally prevailed. Bruce wondered how much collateral damage was left in the wake of the fight. The criminals had been using flashy guns straight out of a sci-fi movie, and two of those hero kids could shoot fiery bolts out of her hands.

 

_"...when we come back after these messages."_

 

"You ever wonder where their parents are?" Bruce asked Tim conversationally as the program broke for commercials. "Letting their kids fight bad guys with laser guns in the streets.... Pretty dangerous, huh."

 

Tim raised a Lego piece and twirled the bit that stuck out, looking at Bruce expectantly.

 

"That's a propeller."

 

Tim gave the piece to a tentacle so he could sign the new word.

 

"Good. 'Propeller.' You can use it if you make a boat. Or...for whatever it is you're making. That works, too."

 

Tim returned his attention to his creation, tentacle hovering thoughtfully as he considered where to add the unusual piece.

 

_"We're back with our coverage of today's top story--"_

 

Bruce glanced at the TV again, hoping for more closeup footage of the hero kids. The blue snake-like one who kept getting thrown around by their teammates, whacking criminals with their long body, kind of looked like a mer from a distance, and was the main reason Bruce hadn't changed the channel. He was in the sort of mood where thinking about mer made him feel sad and fond and vaguely like he ought to call Arthur to let him know what one of his subjects was up to. It was a lot more tolerable than the other, more common thinking-about-mer mood, where he wanted to scream and cry and find a way to kill himself that wouldn't leave Tim abandoned and lonely.

 

_"...calling themselves the Teen Titans, and we go to our very own Meredith Tready for an exclusive interview with one of San Francisco's self-proclaimed guardians."_

 

And then Dick was on the screen.

 

Bruce spent several seconds just staring dumbly, trying to process the fact that _Dick was on TV_. Camera just. Right in his face. Or rather, pulled back enough to show his entire body in a wheelchair, which was even worse. He didn't even have a freaking sleeve on, he was gripping the length of plastic in his hands as if he'd taken it off for the specific purpose of displaying his lower body.

 

 _Dick_ , a teenager with a _fish tail_ who was supposed to be _in hiding_ , was glaring straight into the camera-- Well, actually turning toward the reporter now, ready to answer her eager questions.

 

WHY THE HELL WAS DICK ON TV.

 

_"...as our viewers will see in just a second, you're quite intelligent and articulate. Would you say you're an accurate representative of mer in general, or are you a very unique member of your species?"_

_"The only thing 'unique' about me,"_ Dick said forcefully, signing as he spoke to further emphasize his point, _"is that I can speak English and ASL. But no one taught my mer brothers and sisters, so they scream at you from their tanks but none of you learn our language, so you decide we're stupid and not people so you don't have to hear. But I do know your language, so I tell you that we are people, we cry for freedom and our families that you kill, and [beep] you all for not listening. I know your language, so you have to listen now."_

_"Dick,"_ the reporter interrupted hastily, _"is it true that you're the same famous merboy of Amnesty Bay Aquatic Zoo, who was released into the wild several years ago?"_

_"ABAZ. They suck. They killed my parents - it's on YouTube, you can watch humans shoot and beat my parents to death."_ Although it was technically a different park where Dick's parents were killed, he'd never bothered to distinguish between the two companies that had held him captive. _"They didn't let me talk or sign, they tied me up and fed me GROSS fish, all dead and frozen. I screamed but no one heard me, they threw me in the ocean and I nearly died. Someone saved me, but he threw me away, too. King Arthur let me stay in Atlantis, but I was still all alone until I found my friends."_ He gestured back at the rest of the Teen Titans, who were milling around in the distance.

 

_"And what of Bruce Wayne, known by some as the Mermaid Man of Amnesty Bay? Reports from the time suggest that you two had a close relationship."_

_"He's a human. I hate humans, except W-- except Kid Flash and Speedy and them."_ He gestured at the Titans again. _"Humans suck. You all suck."_

_"I take it you have a rather unflattering view of humanity?"_

_"Treat us like people. Then maybe I'll change my mind."_

 

In the distance, a masked figure in a red vest and black cape yelled something to Dick, who waved in response. The Titans who couldn't fly were clambering onto the back of their furry red dragon-like beast. _"I have to go,"_ Dick said. _"But I'm not hiding anymore. I'm Dick the mer, and we're people. Get with the program."_ He gestured at the camera and then started wheeling away. One of the flying Titans, the one with literal fire for hair, soared over and scooped him up in one arm, effortlessly carrying his wheelchair in her other hand, and took him to join the rest of the group.

 

The view switched to the news anchor in the studio. _"Well, there you have it; an extraordinary--"_

 

Bruce snapped off the TV. He started scrambling around, pounding up and down the stairs to grab a bag and start throwing things into it. When the landline started ringing, he yanked the cord out of the wall and then silenced his cell phone. Although he successfully kept on task, he was internally panicking. A small corner of his mind was hurt and confused that Dick seemed so dismissive of and even hostile toward him when he'd played such a significant role in the boy's life, but that wasn't important right now.

 

There was a _reason_ Dick was supposed to be in hiding. Despite all the progress the Justice League had made with legislators, non-humans still technically didn't have full rights, and mer were still legally classified as animals. The law that had finally forced ABAZ to release Dick could conceivably be used to prosecute the Waynes for allegedly holding Dick captive afterward; ABAZ might also attempt to sue Bruce for theft of their 'property.' Not only would Bruce himself be in danger, but his parents could be targeted as well - the servants at Wayne Manor, Dick's old classmates and the other townspeople who'd known him, anyone could serve as witnesses that Dick hadn't been spending all these years 'free' in the ocean.

 

It was certain that _someone_ in town had been watching the broadcast about the Teen Titans. People who knew Dick personally could be uploading posts to social media right now. A lot of them were only a short boat ride away from the house. It was only a matter of time before investigators tracked Bruce down; his parents were inevitably going to come under fire. He had to get himself and Tim out of the house _now_ , he had to warn his parents--

 

A crash nearly gave Bruce a heart attack, and he spun around. Tim, looking ticked off in his blank way, was sitting in the middle of the pile of cans he'd knocked over to get his guardian's attention. _"What is happening?"_ he demanded.

 

Bruce took a deep breath. "We have to leave. We're not safe here anymore." He grabbed a bag and plopped it down on the floor. "Put everything you want to keep in here. We might never come back to this house again."

 

They finished packing and Bruce bundled everything, including Tim, onto the yacht. He did a last check of the house and sent another quick message to his parents. Then he set sail, his heart thudding in his chest, heading toward San Francisco. He had no idea what he was going to do when he got there, but he didn't have anywhere else to go.

 

He felt a tentacle curl around his calf, and he looked down at Tim. The little mer's face was blank as usual, but his worry showed in the restless coiling and writhing of his limbs. Bruce picked up the child and held him close. "It's going to be okay, kiddo," he told Tim, feeling like a liar.

 

TBC

 

A/N: For amazing fanwork of this fic, [see my fanfiction index](https://raberbagirl.wordpress.com/indexdc/#merbats)! I know I'm missing some of Breezy's stuff (feel free to link me if you find any I missed!), but everyone else's pieces should be there! Thank you all SO MUCH for drawing art for my stories, each and every one makes me really, really happy that you liked what I wrote enough to actually draw for it! :D :D :D

 

Thank you also to everyone who's reviewed! I appreciate comments so much~! X3

 

My family's COVID-19 status: We're all safe and healthy so far. My dad is teleworking; my mother currently has no income but her job will still be there when the schools open again. My own job will also still be waiting for me when they call us back, and as a 100% aro ace introvert homebody with no responsibilities during quarantine except for a weekly grocery shopping trip, I'm actually REALLY appreciative of having so much time off. Although I've wasted an appalling amount of this unexpected free time, there's been so _much_ of it that I've still managed to be very productive, anyway. I feel bad that so many people are suffering at this time, but for me, personally, quarantine has been a lifesaver, I've accomplished a lot that I would have never had time to do with my usual schedule.

 

I hope everyone else stays safe and healthy - and also wise and discerning! Fear has a way of twisting our perspective and leading us to make decisions we might regret later. For those who are having a much worse time than I am, remember that God loves you unconditionally and this challenging season WILL end eventually!


	37. Part 39

**_Gifts From the Sea_ ** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

**Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo**

**Part 39 (rough draft)**

 

A/N: I DID IT! It's edited! And in less than a week, too; I'm so proud of myself!!

 

o.o.o

 

The trip took about two weeks, so Bruce had ample time to calm down and keep an eye on the developing situation from afar.

 

As if Dick's interview had broken a barrier, the Teen Titans started getting more routine news coverage the way the Justice League did, though they never organized any official events or held anymore formal interviews. Most of their closeup appearances consisted of spontaneous shout-outs in passing or selfies with fans.

 

They quickly became a hot topic on social media with some people curiously tracking their activities, others criticizing them as a dangerous group with no oversight, and yet others creating memes and fanworks based on them. The online attention swelled once the Titans created their own blog, various members all using the same account to post pictures, videos, and random rants or comments.

 

There were eleven members, twelve if you counted the furry red dragon (it wasn't clear whether the creature was a pet or a teammate). The green kid who could turn into various (also green) animals was the most media-friendly member, closely followed by Dick and then the flame-haired girl - mostly because she was often in close proximity to Dick.

 

The girl was apparently an alien, though from a different planet than Superman, and Bruce nearly lost his mind when she and Dick revealed they were dating. He was anxious to know if they were being responsible and safe (they seemed happy, at least...?), but Dick hadn't taken anything with him to Atlantis, including the cell phone Bruce knew the number to, and he refused to answer most of the messages Bruce tried to relay through their mutual friends in the League.

 

In addition to Dick, his girlfriend (Kori? Starfire?? she seemed to have multiple names), and the Beast Boy kid, there were Justice League sidekicks who must have gotten bored enough in their mentors' shadows that they'd abandoned their hometowns in order to hang out with other superpowered teenagers instead: Wonder Girl, Kid Flash, Aqualad, and Speedy, the sidekick of some Robin Hood rip-off in Star City (billionaire Oliver Queen was Bruce's guess, judging by the facial hair and how much money all that equipment had to cost). Bruce got as much information about them as their mentors were willing to share with him.

 

Clark, Diana and the others seemed just as bemused as Bruce to see their proteges fighting crime together on the other side of the country, but they were a lot less worried than he was (easy for them, since _their_ kids had superpowers. All Bruce's had was a fish tail, a charming smile, and some slapdash martial arts that Bruce had only taught him as a hobby).

 

The other Titans were more mysterious, and made more of a point to keep out of the spotlight. There was a robotic person of some kind, unimaginatively dubbed "Cyborg" on social media; a cloaked figure, called Raven on the blog, who could fly and possibly control shadows; and two children in masks and capes who hadn't exhibited any obvious superpowers yet. These two went publicly unnamed for a while until social media started calling them Li'l Ninja and Baby Ninja, soon after which the blog announced that their official pseudonyms were Robin and Raptor - the more intimidating name belonging to the smaller child.

 

Raptor was _tiny_ and yet somehow one of the most skilled members of the team, comparable only to Wonder Girl and, to a lesser extent, Speedy. Bruce felt his mouth hanging open sometimes as he watched footage of the child whirling around battlefields, wielding a sword or staff or knives as if they were natural extensions of their body. It made Bruce sick to realize that Raptor was efficient with firearms as well; they had been filmed picking up guns from fallen opponents and mowing down the rest of the criminals with ruthless efficiency. The Titans, thank God, seemed to have a No Kill code, otherwise Raptor's body count could have easily rivaled those of Gotham's most notorious gangsters.

 

Wild as the public got over the Teen Titans, the superhero team was still ultimately just a younger, fresher, and less organized version of the Justice League. Dick revealing himself as a mer with human-equivalent intelligence was what _really_ exploded in the news.

 

Dick's old classmates and others from the beach town were heavily sought after for a while. They shared their experiences with Dick during the years he'd attended school like any other special needs child, making friends and decent grades. Although they enjoyed the attention at first, many started getting frosty at the aggressiveness, persistence, and growing hostility of many of the enquirers.

 

The Wayne family kept all their communication with the press very planned and professional, trying to focus as much as they could on fighting for Dick's right to personhood. Still, some anonymous sources leaked intimate information, not all of it entirely truthful, about Dick's temporary stay in the manor, and Alfred informed Bruce that a couple of the maids had been fired for their lack of discretion.

 

ABAZ and Sandy's Ocean World briefly made some noise about suing the Waynes regarding Dick's well-being and their former rights to him, but backed off when the Waynes threatened to sue back, particularly after Aquaman and the rest of the Justice League started publicly allying with the family.

 

Bruce himself was conspicuously missing. Although he wasn't aware of any authorities trying to locate him, he was still careful not leave a digital trail, contacting his family only via coded, unsigned letters hand-delivered by League members.

 

The Deaf community was absolutely delighted with Dick, and animal and metahuman rights activists were having a field day. Dick went on record with rambling stories about his experiences in captivity, relying entirely on his memory and not bothering to do any fact-checking. Though his anecdotes and emotional impressions were authentic, he tended to be careless about other details.

 

"Tell him he's self-sabotaging!" Bruce begged during one of Clark's check-ins. "Even if he's basically right, he's giving his enemies ammunition by getting the dates wrong and mixing up ABAZ with Ocean World...!"

 

Now that the secret was out, Bruce made _The Boy in the Fish Tank_ available to the public, and a single mention by Aquaman in an interview started the ball rolling. Sales grew exponentially, and though the book was often criticized for its dry and amateur writing style, the content was invaluable to both activists and researchers, and it helped put Dick's claims in better context.

 

Of course there was plenty of pushback from the animal exhibition industry and its allies. They fought hard to defend themselves and to discredit Dick and Bruce, often resorting to outright lies and to behind-the-scenes intimidation tactics or bribery. They claimed that Bruce was a reckless criminal who was orchestrating a giant hoax. Amanda, the trainer who'd once befriended Dick and at first supported him when he went public, retracted her statements, recorded a stilted and awkward video praising her employer, then went silent. Mark, Bruce's old supervisor at ABAZ who now worked for a different park, persisted in his public support of Dick and was soon fired, the park claiming that it wasn't in retaliation and that he'd simply performed poorly in his duties.

 

Although the industry convinced plenty of sheep-minded people who in turn spewed vitriol at anyone even hinting that mer were more than just animals, it was pretty difficult for rational people to argue with the growing body of evidence. Bruce hadn't realized just how much material Dick's old schoolmates had collected over the years; it seemed like every day, new photos and videos were surfacing, clearly showing Dick interacting with human children on an equal level. A few of these were faked by attention-seekers jumping on the bandwagon, but over 99% of them were real.

 

Dick also posted copiously on the Teen Titans blog, hamming it up as usual. _"Wassup, Tumblr!"_ he crowed into the camera in his latest post. _"Chillin' with my homies here in our super secret base!"_

 

Bruce, resting on a deck chair as Tim lay on his chest and practiced fastening and unfastening his shirt buttons, smiled with tears in his eyes at Dick's enthusiastic slang. He missed his kid so much, and Dick refused to even explain why he was angry at him, claiming through their intermediaries, _"YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID! It's what you ALWAYS DO! You're not allowed to hurt us anymore!"_

 

Dick in the video was his usual bubbly self, with no trace of the anger that was all he had to offer Bruce. _"Here's my pretty, pretty girlfriend, Koriiii!"_ Kori, elegantly stretched out on a pool float as she sipped at a drink, waved lazily at the camera. _"And here's Aqualad and Beast Boy~!"_

 

The green sea lion shifted into a green-skinned boy, who grinned as he gestured at the camera. _"Yo!"_

 

The Atlantean nearby nodded. _"Hello."_

 

 _"Let's see what everyone else is up to~"_ Dick heaved himself out of the pool and onto a scooter board, then rolled toward the elevator doors.

 

"Put on a sleeve, chum," Bruce murmured sadly.

 

 _"Sshum?"_ Tim inquired.

 

"I'm watching a video Dick made," Bruce explained, wiggling his phone demonstratively. Catching Tim's interest was a mistake: tentacles started fighting him for the phone, and Bruce had to distract the boy by pulling up the same video on Tim's phone. Tim slipped into the nearby kiddie pool and fixed his eyes on the screen, tentacles idly working at fidget toys.

 

Bruce resumed watching the video on his own phone. Something had been edited out, because Dick was suddenly on a chair in a kitchen. The island in front of him and the counter farther back were a mess, looking like multiple people had been working and eating there, but right now there was only Kid Flash gobbling up a mountain of fries.

 

"You need protein to keep you going," Bruce complained under his breath. "Filling yourself up with junk food is just a waste."

 

_"Say something to all the people, Kid Flash!"_

 

The young speedster mumbled something unintelligible around the fries, smiled with his mouth full, and give the camera a thumbs-up.

 

_"Cool! Now where did everyone else go~?"_

 

Dick maneuvered back down to his scooter board and rolled into a lounge area where a sports game was playing on TV. The camera shifted around until the people on the couch were visible.

 

Cyborg was in the middle, hood up and face shadowed except for the red glow of a cybernetic eye. On either side of the couch were people clad in purple. The one on Cyborg's right was also hidden in the depths of their hood; they had a feminine body type and were reading an ancient-looking leather-bound book, sitting upright and poised like a maiden in a classic painting. The person on the other end of the couch wore an almost identical robe but had very different body language - they were curled up like a cat, nestled in blankets, and were clutching their paperback, the cover of which was obscured.

 

_"Hi, Raven! Hi, Cyborg! Hi, Robin!"_

 

 _"Hello, Richard,"_ Raven said politely, her(?) voice low and dusky. Cyborg merely grunted, and Robin silently raised their middle finger.

 

Dick hummed cheerfully as he rolled onward. There was another abrupt edit and then he was in a different room where Wonder Girl was sparring with Speedy. On the other end of the room, the furry dragon napped, and a masked little boy sat beside the beast, polishing a sword.

 

_"Raptor~~!"_

_"Are you wasting time again, Richard?"_ the child complained, sounding far more adult than his apparent age.

 

_"It's for the blog! Do you have anything you want to tell people?"_

_"My only message is for more villains to come commit their crimes in San Francisco. I am running behind schedule."_

_"[beep]! I mean, Raptor! Don't tell bad guys to come here! They always interrupt when we're trying to do fun things."_

_"Life isn't supposed to be 'fun'! The Teen Titans are a very serious group!"_

_"Okay, Raptor,"_ Dick said indulgently. Then he squealed and laughed when he was abruptly scooped up. When the camera settled, it was pointed at Wonder Girl's face. _"Donna~!"_

 

_"Are you bothering him, Dick?"_

_"Nope!"_

_"Do you want to take over with Speedy?"_

_"Yeah! I need a dip, though; fly me, please~?"_

_"Yes, all right."_

_"Yay!"_ The camera filled with Dick's smiling face. _"Bye, Internet!"_

_"Goodbye,"_ Wonder Girl said, and Speedy's fingers jabbed into view to flash a quick victory sign just before the video ended.

 

Bruce sighed and let the phone fall on his chest, then watched with idle affection as Tim finished watching. The octo-mer finally lowered his phone and looked at Bruce. He made Dick's sign-name.

 

"Yes, it's Dick. He seems...happy. Without me."

 

_"Lots of people."_

 

"Yes. Those are the Teen Titans. They are...Dick's friends." Bruce rubbed at his eyes. "I'm feeling kind of tired, kiddo. I think I'm going to take a nap."

 

A tentacle reached out and deposited a fidget toy in Bruce's lap for no discernible reason.

 

"Thank you."

 

 _"You sleep, you wake up, we play hide-and-seek."_ Bruce hoped that Tim never learned that the real game involved the players hiding from each other. It was exasperating enough that Tim had already made a game out of occasionally hiding objects Bruce needed and watching intently as the man hunted them down. Bruce hoped that playing the game with nonessential items would keep Tim sated enough that he wouldn't feel the need to play it with important objects.

 

"All right, we can do that."

 

It was nearly three in the morning when Bruce woke up again. He and Tim had become largely nocturnal during the voyage, since the mer did better in dim lighting and the sun was so much brighter when they didn't have a house to shield them from it. Tim also spent much less time in the ocean than Bruce expected, since the mer refused to go down there without Bruce accompanying him in a small boat. There were not nearly as many toys or cozy spots on the yacht as there had been in the house, so Bruce taught Tim how to play chess and they spent long hours bent intently over the magnetic board.

 

This was what they were doing when the sky began to lighten with the approach of dawn. They finished up the game and Bruce put it away before Tim could try to set up the pieces for another round. "All right. Sun's coming, kiddo. Let's get ready to sleep."

 

 _"You love Dick?"_ Tim asked out of the blue.

 

"Do I--? Yes, of course."

 

_"...You love Jason?"_

 

Bruce tried to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. _"Yes,"_ he signed. _"I don't want to talk about Jason."_

 

He waited for Tim to ask the next logical question, but he didn't. _"Don't die,"_ the mer said instead.

 

"I'm not going to die, Tim." He paused. "I...I love you, Tim."

 

Tim made the particular tentacle gesture that Bruce was pretty sure indicated confusion. _"You love fish and seal."_

 

"Yes. And...octopus. I love you, too." He wished his voice didn't sound so empty and flat. Maybe Tim wouldn't notice.... It wasn't like he was an expert on tone of voice.

 

_"You love fish. Fish goes away. You love seal. Seal goes away. You love octopus."_

 

"I don't want you to go away, Tim." Bruce suddenly felt cold. He knelt and grasped the mer's small shoulders, needing Tim to understand. "I don't want you to go away. I don't want you to get hurt or angry with me. I-- Tim-- Please don't leave me. Okay? I need-- Please stay with me."

 

Tim was still a moment. Then he reached for his own face and pressed his mouth into a smile. Then he laid his hands on Bruce's heart. Then he signed, _"I don't want you to die."_

 

"I-- I don't want to die, either, kiddo. I don't want to leave you alone. That would be wrong."

 

_"It's wrong to leave you alone."_

 

"We need to be there for each other. You...you've helped me a lot, and...I know I haven't done much for you, but-- it's important. You're...important."

 

_"You love children."_

 

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

 

 _"Good."_ Tim glanced at the eastern horizon, then crawled away, climbed into a kiddie pool, and pulled the nearby blanket over himself.

 

Bruce rested a hand on the lump in the middle of the blanket. Then he brought over an air mattress and went to sleep right next to his kid, needing to stay close.

 

TBC

 

A/N: All-righty; SO, yes, I got the first 38 chapters edited, including those major chapter re-arrangements, so if anyone is inclined to re-read this fic from the beginning or at least from Jason's arc (pre-kidnapping), now would be a great time to do so! It feels _so freaking good_ to have successfully cleaned up this story.

 

I drafted this new chapter just because I was excited to update and share my accomplishment with you guys, but I need to take a break again - GFtS has been receiving my full attention for a while now, and I want to work on my Final Fantasy XV fics now. X''D I'll get back to GFtS! I just need to catch up on a lot of stuff that I was neglecting while I was pushing so hard to finish the Tim + Al Ghul story arcs and get the fic edited.

 

Also, DeviantArt is being a huge butt, so my current Quarantine Project (*praying I won't have to go back to work next week after all*) is saving my messages before they get deleted in a month. -.- Ugh, I didn't think any site could get worse than FFN or Tumblr, but DA has gone and done it.

 

I'm not very familiar with the Arrow Family side of the DCU; how in the world does Oliver hide his secret identity when his facial hair is so distinctive? X'''D

 

Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed! Comments are always appreciated~!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sea shells and all the things he left behind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20702555) by [loosingletters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosingletters/pseuds/loosingletters)




End file.
